


(Don't) Hold Your Breath

by The_Winter_Straw



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Disabled Character, Disabled Reader, Drama, F/M, Horror, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, bad language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: So you want to survive the Cordyceps apocalypse? Yeah, well, join the club. That's easier said than done, and that's when everything is going your way. Throw in losing your arm and getting dragged off to "civilization" by a sarcastic teenager and her guardian, and you'll be lucky to last the week.Still think you've got what it takes? Here's a list of rules for if you ever wind up in that situation. You might want to make sure to memorize them. They might not save your life, but at least they'll keep you out of hell a little longer.In response to the "#32 In His Rulebook" challenge by Charred Heart on Lunaescence Archives.





	1. Survival Rule #1: Shut up. The enemy can easily hear you.

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic I'm transferring here--playing with the import, since a lot of these are old enough that I can't copy/paste the text with my formatting notes. It's all been corrupted over the years. As always, let me know if you can see a way to improve my tags and what not!
> 
> I mostly started this project so I could play around with Ellie and Joel as a family unit. It's not connected to the second game at all. I loved the game; I just wanted something happy to come after it, and you can't stop me from writing that. Neener-neener-neener!

By the time you woke up, the rest of them had left–quite a while before, you’d hazard a guess. It had definitely been night when you’d passed out on that pile of dirty rags. It was sunset again now. Load of shitty freeloaders. It didn’t take a genius to realize they’d taken all the food with them, too. In the hazy light filtering through the trees outside, you could see far enough to know that much. 

You were far too woozy to try moving, but your brain didn’t catch on to that. Your teeth ground into each other as you reached desperately around yourself to find a gun. If those fuckers had even taken your _weapons_ , you were going to track them down and get your things back the hard way. You’d given practically everything you had to get that meat back there. 

Everything, it occurred to you, including the arm you were using to try and find your gun. _Shit_. You struggled into a seated position, panting as you lifted the remaining stump to get a good look at things. Blood seeped crimson through the bandages that made up most of your desperate tourniquet. Of course, those shitheads couldn’t be bothered to do it up better for you before they ran out. At least that explained your extreme lightheadedness. 

Something next to your makeshift bed gleamed, catching your eye. You scooped it up with your still-existing hand. Thank god. It was a pistol. At least they had left you that much, and maybe a little more. A torn fragment of paper was stuffed into the barrel. 

Apparently those fuckers hadn’t thought about how you were supposed to get that paper out with only one hand. Despite the massive throbbing in your head and chest, you bashed the gun against the wall until the scrap fell out. It was a wasted effort; your reward was nothing but a hastily scribbled note about not sticking around until you got infected. As though you hadn’t cut off your own fucking arm as soon as that bastard runner got you! 

But then, you supposed you would have done the same thing. Hell, you would have shot the moron that thought amputation was the answer. So, in addition to being a bunch of jackasses, your old group was also apparently made up entirely of _morons,_ leaving you and letting you live. You tossed the paper lethargically into the corner. Well, you’d been right. If you were going to become infected, you already would have got there. 

What remained was the problem of how the fuck you were supposed to survive with a single arm, and your non-dominant hand at that. 

“Hey, Joel! I’m gonna check over here, all right? There’re tracks leading away; maybe some hunters left us something good.” 

A whoosh of nausea filled your stomach. Before you could do so much as throw the rags over you in a sorry attempt at disguise, the door to your tiny shack in the middle of buttfuck nowhere drifted gently open. With you in the state you were in, you could hardly get up and strangle the intruder. There was nothing to do but sit very still and hope she left. 

Upon seeing no movement, however, the door creaked open farther still, and into your shack stepped a girl that could have been no older than fifteen. Her green eyes wandered over the remains of whatever people had lived there twenty-something years ago, but clearly saw nothing interesting until they landed on you. 

You wasted no time in lifting your pistol, fat load of good it would do you. Your arm trembled simply at _holding_ the weapon; there was no question that you wouldn’t have the strength to actually _fire–_ and that was if you even had any bullets remaining from the firefight the night before, or your gang hadn't taken what was left. 

“Shit,” the girl yelped, and leaped backward, back toward the door. You winced at your continued effort; you could feel more blood rushing to the site of your missing limb. Somehow, that must have made you look a lot less threatening, because the girl crept forward, bringing her large eyes and freckled cheeks into high relief. “Hey, are you okay?” 

You just snorted in response, but that didn’t make you a more formidable opponent. The girl bent down next to you to get a closer look, as though you were some interesting sideshow she hadn’t seen advertised. 

“Oh, man, you’re really bleeding.” 

“Get–” Your words got caught in your throat; you screwed up your face before trying again: “Get. Out.” 

“I–” 

“Get out or I’ll shoot you, you little bitch.” 

Her eyes narrowed in response. Meanwhile, your eyes caught the pistol gripped loosely in one of her hands. Shit. If it came to actually shooting, she’d slaughter you, and then what would you have cut your damn arm off for? Getting killed by a kid seemed laughable compared to being torn up by infected. 

“I doubt you can aim properly in your condition,” she said calmly. 

“Try me,” you spat. 

“Hey, why don’t you try showing a little respect?” 

“Respect _me_ , you–” 

The sharp click of gun interrupted your pissing contest with the twerp. She looked up immediately, but it took you several seconds longer to get your gaze up to the face of the newcomer. 

“Do you want to try dropping that gun, or do you want me to make it so you don’t need it anymore?” he asked. 

Even if you weren’t near-dead, you would have been intimidated by the girl’s bodyguard. He was enormous, grizzled, and wearing an expression that quite clearly told you the “near” part of your label wasn’t going to last much longer. You doubted that even dropping your pistol would net you your life, but just then your hand gave such a tremendous shudder that the weapon slipped from your fingers anyway. Sure enough, the gun pointed at your head didn’t budge an inch. 

“Joel,” said the girl. 

“What, kid?” he said angrily without taking his eyes off you. In response, she got to her feet and lifted her hands in some strange attempt to pacify him. He looked at her only for a moment before rolling his eyes and returning to your stare down. 

“Joel,” the girl said again. “She’s hurt.” 

“And what does that matter?” 

“She obviously wasn’t going to shoot me!” Suddenly, the calming note in the girl’s voice was gone. Her tone flared up like a rocket, though that didn’t seem to have much of an effect on Joel. “So put the gun down!” 

“Ellie–” 

“Just do it!” 

At last, he stopped watching you to take up glaring at Ellie in your stead. She scowled up at him for half a minute, but didn’t wait for him to do as she said. With a sound of great annoyance, she tore her gaze away and threw herself down at your side. After a moment of casting about for _something_ , she looked down at her shirt, pulled a knife from one of her pockets, and proceeded to slice a long strip of fabric from her clothes. 

“Kid, what are you doing?” Joel asked impatiently. She glowered at him as she proceeded to wrap the fabric tightly around your stump. 

“Helping,” she answered. Joel groaned and jammed his rifle back into the pack on his back. 

“And what good is that supposed to do her?” 

It was exceedingly frustrating being spoken about as though you weren’t there, but the energy you had expended on snapping at Ellie was all that you had had left. You slumped back against the wood wall of the shack and stared blearily between the two of them. Why they weren’t gunning you down, you had no idea. Hopefully they weren’t part of that _other_ crowd all those miles back. 

"It’ll last longer than the shitty tourniquet she’s got now.” 

“So?” 

“So, it’ll get her back to Jackson!” 

“Get her back to–” Joel almost spluttered. Instead, he just stopped speaking. “You are _not_ taking her home with us.” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Are you insane? You know how she lost an arm? Probably got bit.” 

“Looks like she acted quickly to me. Hey.” Ellie nudged you, and then nudged you much harder a second time when you didn’t react. “Hey, you. When did you get bit?” 

“Huh?” you asked. You could have sworn you were paying attention, but suddenly the question had slipped your mind. Ellie’s eyebrows lifted, and she spoke much more slowly to say: 

“When did you get bit?” 

“L-Last night,” you answered, closing your eyes with pain as she finished tying the tourniquet. “Hours ago.” 

“See?” Ellie asked lightly as she stood. “She’s fine.” 

“Kid, you can’t be the savior of every goddamn straggler we run into.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed as Ellie opened her mouth to reply. She must have thought better of what she was going to say, though, because she shrugged and adjusted her pack before trying again: “You _owe_ me. And I owe it to the world.” 

“Ellie–” 

“Not now, Joel.” She spun back toward you. “Do you think you can walk? We can’t really make a stretcher. I guess Joel could carry you.” 

“Like hell I’m carrying her. This is your project.” 

“Fine,” Ellie snapped. “Then you can lean me. Just so long as you can walk a bit.” 

“You’re overestimating your own strength again.” 

“If you aren’t going to offer a solution, then fucking shut your trap. Can you walk?” she asked you again. The old you would have told her to get the fuck away and take her old man with her. You could handle it on your own. This time, though, you were pretty sure you couldn’t. You didn’t have food, you only had a single magazine in your pistol, and you were significantly down on your ability to protect yourself. “We’ve got a settlement, a really cool place, totally self-governed. You can come with us.” 

“You really think Maria and Tommy are just going to let us waltz in the front door with some woman that’s probably gonna turn at any minute?” Joel asked. 

“She’s not infected. Besides, they’ll let _me_ waltz in the front door with her. After all, I’m their delightful little niece.” 

"You are not their niece,” Joel said flatly. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She must have heard that a lot, because Ellie didn’t appear bothered by that statement. Ducking slightly, she grasped your shoulders and, ignoring your tensing, heaved you to your feet. It took several minutes; you didn’t have the strength to help her–nor, really, did you have the desire to. Survival instinct was telling you to get away from those two as quick as you could. Unfortunately, your body was not up to listening to those instructions, and Ellie got you standing soon enough. She even had you taking several steps toward the exit. “You wanna be at least _some_ help and open the door?” Ellie asked Joel. 

Although he didn’t look pleased about it, Joel made to open the door. His large fingers had only just wrapped around the knob when a horribly familiar clicking noise issued from somewhere outside. Each person in the room froze, even you. A second later, and that clicking was answered by another, only slightly more distant. 

Joel reached for his gun. Whatever Ellie planned to do, you didn’t intend to find out. Summoning up the last vestiges of your strength, you tore yourself free of her hold. Without any energy left to keep yourself upright, you fell back onto the floor. 

Your pistol was sitting several feet away, entirely useless to you. You began to thrash wildly, desperate to get back to it. You might not have been able to shoot properly, but you weren’t going to go down without a fight. Sounds of fear, normally easy to quash, began to claw their way out of your throat as you moved. 

Joel’s boot smashed down onto the gun. Your head snapped upward to see him glowering down at you, his rifle aimed once more at your head. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “They can _hear_ you.” 

“I _know_ what clickers are!” you panted. What the fuck was Joel on, thinking he had to _explain_ infected to you? You’d been surviving just as long as he had! If you weren’t so exhausted by your escape attempt, you would have shown him what for. As it was, you could only lay there in a heap, breathing heavily, and watch as he maneuvered toward one of the broken windows. Ellie followed suit, though she paused to smirk at you once she was stationed, and held a single finger to her lips. 

Of all the shitty people to land yourself with. Your last group might have been stupid, but at least they weren’t sarcastic teenagers. 

Joel and Ellie both looked out, never relaxing, even when the time between clicks was longer than the last. Sweat broke out across the back of your neck. The three of you were _trapped_ there, in that shitty shack, with no food and you probably bleeding to death. If either of them shot a clicker, it would bring every single infected in the vicinity right to your door–and after the hunt last night, you knew there were quite a few infected in the vicinity. 

“As far as I can tell, there’s only two,” Joel whispered, though even that much was risky. “You stay here.” 

Ellie nodded. With an impressively silent tread for a man so large and carrying so much weaponry, Joel moved across the room, opened the door, and slipped out into the growing night. A few more clicks sounded, but after that, everything went completely quiet. 

“Did you get them?” 

You started, having not even realized that Joel had returned. In fact, he was right above you, and before you could react, he had hefted you into the air and thrown your arms around his shoulders so that he could carry you on his back. 

“Yeah,” he growled. “Let’s get going before more show up. Dragging her along definitely isn’t going to be quiet.” 

“I know how to be quiet,” you murmured, too worn-out for much more. Maybe it would have been better if he just dropped you there to be turned. The stress you had from dealing with those two for just an hour or so seemed to be draining you more than the amputation. 

“Good.” He did not sound as though he believed you. “Because if you pull another stunt like that, I’m dumping you in a nest of clickers and leaving you there.” 

Cool night air hit your face at last. Although you were fading quickly, you were aware enough to hear Ellie’s quick, quiet footsteps as she caught up to you. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, with a smile that was supposed to be reassuring. “Joel treats everyone like that. You’ll grow on him.” 

“Fantastic,” you said hoarsely. 

Joel jostling you harder than necessary was the last thing you remembered from that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't mistake me for someone who knows anything about guns. Actually, I have shot a gun before (my parents are very concerned about my safety), but that was long after I wrote this. So now I know that A) the idea of someone shoving a note in there is stupid and B) the reader knocking the gun around is also stupid!


	2. Survival Rule #2: Try not to get yourself hurt.

Something startled you from your sleep long after your second fainting spell. Maybe it was the chill night air, since autumn was approaching. Maybe it was some survival instinct, reminding you that you were alone in the middle of the woods. 

Maybe it was Ellie, staring at you through the dark. 

Even long after your eyes flashed open, she watched, as though staring wasn’t fucking rude even in a post-apocalyptic hell. You stared straight back, a frown tugging your lips down ever so slightly. It might have taken a minute, but your last memories were _definitely_ resurfacing–and you were feeling considerably _less_ warm and fuzzy toward being forcibly removed from that shack, which was saying something since you hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place. 

“Are you awake?” she asked, probably twenty minutes later. “Or just dead?” 

“What the fuck does it matter?” 

“Well.” Ellie’s eyes rolled up toward the sky. Given your position lying mostly on your back, you had a decent view of the same group of tree boughs. “If you’re dead, you can’t keep watch.” 

A quick mental assessment of things told you that you really weren’t feeling much better than you had been during your last bout of consciousness. In fact, you might have felt worse. Was this even the same damn night? How long had you been out? It didn’t matter because you were _still_ exhausted. Ellie apparently took your silence as quiet rebellion because her voice drifted toward you again: 

“What, you lose an arm and suddenly you can’t keep watch? Man, Joel was right. You _are_ fucking useless.” 

“I’m more useful than you, brat,” you snapped, bristling instantly. What the fuck were you doing alone in the woods with a preteen anyhow? She’d had a gun when she’d met you, but you sure as hell hadn’t seen her _use_ it. Kids didn’t last in times like this. No one was going to be fool enough to actually teach her how to defend herself. You let yourself get attached to breakable things like children, and pretty soon you were curled up somewhere dying of heartache instead of fungus. 

“Oh, really,” Ellie stated in a tone so thick with sarcasm you could have used it as a broth. “Well, this useless little kid is the one that got you all the way here, the one that fixed your arm, _and_ the one that’s been keeping _your_ watch since you joined our party.” 

You glowered at her stonily through the darkness. As if this were some stupid video game where people joined up willingly. Slowly, her dark eyebrows rose, nearly disappearing into her messy hairline. 

“You’re welcome,” she prompted you. 

“You abducted me,” you pointed out. 

“And saved your fucking life,” Ellie said heatedly. “You weren’t going to make it there for a day if Joel and I hadn’t come by.” 

You’d give Ellie a thank you if and when it turned out that going with her and her dad wasn’t the biggest damn mistake you’d made in your life. For the moment, you were content to just narrow your eyes in her direction. It occurred to you that you had lost serious ground in dealing with the little tramp. You might not have been Joel’s age, but you were still an adult, and her constant lip was going to make you pissed off pretty quick, seeing as you weren’t used to people treating you like that. Apparently sensing your mood, Ellie’s face slackened bit by bit, then she leaned forward to do something with the ground in front of her. 

“None of the adults in my life _ever_ say thank you,” she muttered. “Fucking sucks.” 

“You should watch your language,” you said in a halfhearted attempt to sound like an authority figure. Ellie snorted. 

“I’d like to see you try to make me.” Your eyes narrowed still further at Ellie’s tone. She did not sound the least bit worried about you strangling her to death. A moment later, and she plucked something up from beside her, then tossed it so that it landed right next to you in the dirt. After a moment of blinking, you recognized it as your pistol. “Go ahead. Make me. I got you a new magazine. Again, you’re _welcome_.” 

Who the fuck was this girl? She had nearly as bad a mouth as you did, she hung around some huge-ass dude with a hair-trigger temper, but on top of that, she seemed genuinely concerned about getting you through things. Before picking up your gun, you frowned and pushed yourself into as much of a sitting position as you could manage. That was definitely _your_ pistol. Ellie seemed content that you weren’t going to shoot her and fell silent, looking about the forest around you. 

It set you more at edge than usual, sitting there without a fire. Still, it made sense not to have one, since not all the infected were blind. The worst you could get in the dark was a stalker, and normally those came alone. Better a single stalker than a hoard of runners, especially after that last battle you’d had with them. 

As though the spirit of your long-gone arm remembered that, too, a twinge of pain shot up it. You winced involuntarily and even made to grip it with your other hand. Embarrassed, you refused to look at Ellie; you tried to pass the motion off as you wanting to take a look at your stump. Your bandages and Ellie’s shirt had disappeared to be replaced by snow-white bandages that looked practically brand new. 

“Yeah, I got you new wrapping, too.” 

It was getting more and more difficult not to thank her. You might not have valued companionship much, but you valued your life quite a bit. But you weren’t quite ready to soften up yet. 

“How the hell did you find these?” 

“We brought them,” Ellie said casually, nodding behind you before continuing, “Had to get back to the horses first, though.” 

“The ho–” You twisted around. Sure enough, two horses stood stamping occasionally, roped to a pair of trees. The effort of the movement had you back on your back again, much to your growing chagrin. Fucking blood loss! Ellie, however, seemed entirely unconcerned. As though your question had actually made some sense, she nodded to herself, then added: 

“You’re lucky. Normally we just ride my horse, but Tommy hasn’t been out in a while and asked Joel to take Shadowfax. We couldn’t have got you here with just one.” 

“Thank you ever so much.” 

“You know, it doesn’t count if you’re sarcastic. You’re kind of a bitch.” 

“Give it a few years. You’ll get there.” 

“Probably.” Ellie grinned. “Maria’s a bitch, too. I guess I like ‘em that way.” 

That name sounded familiar to you for whatever reason. It took your brain a few minutes to remember that scrap of information: Maria was going to let Joel and Ellie waltz in the front door with you because she liked Ellie. “How far away is your settlement if you need to take a pair of _horses_?” 

She shrugged. “’Bout three days.” 

“And you’re self-sustaining?” 

“I said self-governing. We’ll get to the self-sustained shit later. For now, we’ve still got to scavenge and hunt and doing it too close to the settlement draws attention.” 

“They let a _kid_ scavenge this far out?” 

“Hey,” she said sharply. “I am not a kid. I’m fifteen, _and_ Joel and I are the best team Jackson’s got.” Ellie paused. “Well, we come back alive, at least.” 

What a time to be alive. They’d said that about Oreos back before all the infected shit. It seemed to bare more significance now. If someone had told you fifteen years ago someone would be trying to establish some sort of democracy in hell, you’d have shot them before they turned further. Still, didn’t sound like they had things down pat yet. 

“Why don’t you just eat the horses?” 

“We just don’t,” Ellie answered, and then pointed at you with the knife in her hand. “You even look at Callus Two with intent to harm him and I’ll slit your fucking throat right here.” 

Getting threatened by a fucking kid was getting fucking old fucking fast. If you had had any energy, you would have taken her by the collar and shook her until she agreed to stop with the theatrics. Once you got back on your feet, you were going to have to curbstomp her to make sure she knew who was boss. For the time being, though, you only had enough in you to say, “Sure, kid.” 

“My name is Ellie.” 

Again, you sat up, casting about until you found the dark lump on her other side that you assumed to be Joel. He must have been some goddamn idiot to trust leaving the watch to a teenager. What the fuck was she supposed to do if you got attacked? For that matter, what the fuck were _you_ supposed to do? “ _He_ calls you kid.” 

“Yeah, well,” said Ellie, “Joel gets special privileges. You don’t.” 

“Wasn’t asking for ‘em.” 

“Speaking of special privileges,” Ellie said as she got to her feet. “Your special privilege of skipping watch is over. Hope you’re ready. Got your pistol?” She didn’t wait for you to answer. “I don’t know why you need it. That’s not even your writing hand, is it?” 

Shit. How had she already noticed that? If you couldn’t even get a kid to take you seriously, what hope did you have for after you ditched this lot? You shifted and wrapped your hand more tightly around your gun. Children were gullible, right? You hoped you remembered correctly, since you hadn't seen any kids since the whole mess had started, not proper kids, at least. Maybe if you just kept your voice level, she'd believe you. 

“Yes, it is.” 

That was a no go; Ellie scoffed. She walked in your direction until she was standing above you, then dug a scrap of paper out of her pocket and placed it on a rock by your knees. “Prove it.” She took your gun and handed you the remains of a scraped-up pencil. “Go on. Write your name down for me.” 

If anything was going to give you away, it was a writing test. If she had asked you to _shoot_ something, at least you could have claimed shock as an excuse. Although Ellie had already clearly caught you, you still scowled. “What if I don’t want to give you my name?” 

“Then write _my_ name down,” Ellie said in what was clearly an exasperated tone. You stared at the paper for a long minute, then tossed the pencil back at Ellie with a sound of disgust. Lucky for her, she caught it; that shit was hard to come by. Unfortunately, she did so with a smug grin before reaching down to pluck her paper up again. 

“If you want me to just flat out _say_ I can’t keep watch–” 

“Oh, you’re still keeping watch, bitch.” She grinned around the word. Clearly, you’d received a new nickname, one you were definitely _not_ thrilled about. You could feel yourself bristling again, but Ellie cut off any protests by kneeling and reaching her knife out toward you. “Here.” 

“I–What?” 

“I just wanted to make double sure you couldn’t use a gun. If you can’t even write your name, you probably can’t aim, right? I’d rather not give Joel the satisfaction of having our guest shoot my eye out.” 

With a tremendous sigh, you took Ellie’s knife. It wasn’t as though you weren’t used to hard watches, and it would be somewhat rude to expect to be skipped out on. You’d been a harder taskmaster than Ellie had, back before you’d lost an arm. It was probably best to set a good example. Sensing your surrender, Ellie’s grin widened. Then she turned about and settled herself down next to Joel. Before you could even begin properly watching, however, Ellie’s voice sounded again: 

“Don’t you _dare_ run off with it. I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors about a crazy old man and his teenage companion slaughtering everyone they run into, but that’s me and Joel. We’ll catch up to you.” 

“A knife?” Couldn’t you find this shit all over? She was apparently a hunter. Must have been a pretty shitty one if she had to track people down to recover a _knife_. 

“It means a lot to me,” Ellie said in a groggy voice. You snorted, but it wasn’t as though you were getting anywhere fast anyway. Stealing a horse would only leave tracks that would make you _easier_ to follow. Much to your dismay, it seemed like you were stuck with the kid and her dad until you got used to being one handed. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. Ellie’s sleepy laughter momentarily filled the air. 

“Just wake us up if you hear anything,” she murmured. “Try not to get yourself hurt."


	3. Survival Rule #3: Try not to get yourself killed. God, are you that stupid?

It soon became clear that despite her situation, Ellie was anything _but_ consistently down. Your second day on the back of Callus Two behind her was practically a rollercoaster in that regard. Balancing with only one arm was no mean feat, and she wouldn’t quit harping on it, but during the long spaces of time wherein you hadn’t had to grip her desperately to stay on, she chattered like conversation was going out of style–which, you supposed, it had. 

Ellie seemed happy to ramble on about just about anything, so long as someone was willing to listen. Before she’d stopped near noon to go after a deer trail she spotted, you’d heard Ellie’s views on everything from descriptions of her last hunt to a summary of the last comic book she’d found. You listened with just about as bored an expression as you could manage. Why the fuck did she think you cared about her life? But she was the one driving, so there wasn’t much you could do. At least it looked like it appeased Joel, who you could have _sworn_ you caught almost _smiling_ at Ellie’s antics. 

When no one was willing to listen, she whistled. When she wasn’t allowed to do that, she read. It seemed an awful waste of pack space to let her bring magazines, and that on top of all the talking she did made you wonder why Joel had even brought her along at all. Surely the damn kid was just a liability. But whenever Joel was awake–which was, admittedly, most of the time–he glared at you every fucking time you threatened her. Hell, he even seemed to orient himself around her, like she was his sun, the entire center of his goddamn universe. 

But you still couldn’t figure out exactly what the fuck the two of them were doing. You didn’t just drag children into those kinds of situations, not unless you were trying to repay some debt, or at least trying to _look_ like you were. But Joel and Ellie _knew_ each other–what was more, they seemed to _like_ each other. Ellie called him “Joel” happily, not like a kid trying distance itself from a shitty parent. Besides, Joel was _way_ too old to be her dad. But then, he didn’t act much like David either. What did he gain from keeping Ellie around? 

“Anyway, after that, it was a pretty simple job of untying the knot. Boy, Joel sure was lucky to have me around for _that_. Not that he thanked me for that rescue either.” 

“Kid,” you said, not bothering to keep the haggard note from your voice, “do you _ever_ shut up? How the fuck haven’t you got you and your friend turned into fucking Clicker chow by now?” 

“ _Because_ ,” Joel said testily as his horse clopped up beside Callus Two, “ _She_ can actually take care of herself and knows to keep her fucking voice down.” 

Instead of bothering to answer that, you just glowered. Joel was, as of that moment, an unknown. He barely spoke, unless it was to tell Ellie what a mistake you were. During those times Ellie had run off to chase after rabbits and left you alone with Joel, it seemed pretty obvious that he was having to restrain himself from shooting you. When you made no response, he nodded at Ellie. 

“Keep it up, Ellie.” 

“Oh, we have a guest party member that Joel doesn’t like and I get free reign to do whatever I want?” She beamed. “I’m going to have to adopt people more often!” 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

With another scowl in your direction, Joel took Shadowfax’s reigns and the horses started to move again. You let a long breath of air out of your nose as you looked around. The forest was starting to thin. Judging by the direction your troop had been moving the past day and a half, you were now farther west than where you’d started. What that meant, you had no idea. It was not as though state lines meant anything those days. 

But it _did_ mean that you were getting sick of traveling with Ellie and Joel. Owing Ellie so much was just another burr under your skin. As you stared around, you leaned farther back from her, farther and farther, until you could only see the sky. 

The horse below you whinnied; that was the only warning you had. The very next second, it reared. Your arm scrabbled around Ellie; your breath came fast in your ears, but you certainly hadn’t regained any of your missing balance. Before the horse had even thought of setting its hooves back on the ground, you fell backwards, landing on your back with a single loud expletive. 

“See, now,” came Joel’s voice from somewhere above you. “Ellie would have known not to shout at something as simple as _falling off a fucking horse._ ” 

“Fuck you,” you growled as you sat up. Your head spun, but through that haze you could see that Joel had stopped his horse right in front of Ellie’s. He stood on the ground while Ellie, still perched atop Callus Two, looked irritably between the two of you. Her expression changed when she caught yours, swiftly rearranging into one of vague concern. 

“It was time to dismount anyway,” she said hastily, as though this was somehow supposed to make you feel less shitty. In a trice, she had got her two feet back on the ground. As much as you loathed the idea of following either of them anywhere, your only other option was sticking around the edge of the forest waiting to be eaten. You stood and attempted to appear haughtily unconcerned as you took several steps past them. 

“Why bother with the horses if you can’t ride them all the way?” 

“That’s none of your business,” said Joel, but Ellie ignored him: 

“Safety precaution. We still have to get identified before they’ll let us in and we don’t want the horses shot out from under us while we’re too far away.” 

“So…we’re almost there?” you asked. 

“Yeah, it’s that right there.” Ellie gestured to a building in the distance while she stroked Callus Two’s nose with her other hand. 

“That’s a power plant.” 

“And that’s where we live.” 

Well, by then you’d seen plenty of other stupid-ass plans. You supposed living in a power plant was one of the better ones at least. Ellie interrupted your staring by wordlessly holding out a trio of dead rabbits. Although the ends of your mouth pressed down, you took them just as silently, then went back to looking while the rest of the meat carrying was divided up. Whatever Ellie had said to the contrary, her community didn’t look like much–not enough to give up your freedom for, at least. 

“Ellie, I’m telling you, this is a bad idea.” 

As usual, Joel didn’t bother to keep his voice down when he spoke about how much he didn’t want you there. Not that you could blame him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Ellie had taken your gun (“until you can show me you can use it responsibly"), you would have shot them. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were pretty sure even the fucking teenager could wrestle you to the ground, you would have stabbed them with the knife Ellie kept lending you. Because that would have meant you didn’t _need_ them. Joel had you pegged much better than the kid, which couldn’t have been more apparent than when she whispered back: 

“No it’s not. She hasn’t hurt us.” 

“Because she _can’t_.” 

“So, what were we supposed to do? Just leave her there to die?” 

“Ideally.” 

“Well, you know what, Joel? I–” 

“You owe it to the world. Yeah, I know. Would you reel in the Messiah delusion for ten seconds? We don’t even know her name!” 

Whatever Ellie’s response to that was, you lost it. Even just standing there was exhausting. If there was food and shelter and–most importantly–a break from Ellie’s voice ahead, you weren’t going to wait around to find it. Maybe Ellie’s rabbits would provide you with enough of a payment get inside. Who was going to believe that she killed them anyhow? Fifteen-year-olds weren’t taught how to hunt small game. 

The ground beneath your feet slanted downwards. The tilt, combined with the remaining aftereffects of chopping off an arm, had you stumbling forward. But at least you were _moving_ , without a horse or Ellie or Joel to carry you. You certainly hadn’t been capable of that much the day before. Maybe you would only have to stay a night! Then you could give Ellie her knife back, show her that you weren’t someone to trifle with, and then disappear again. After all, your last attempt at a settlement hadn’t really gone the way you’d hoped. 

Something ahead gleamed in the sunlight, causing your awkward loping to come to a halt. Your eyes flicked up toward the gate ahead. Surely they got stragglers, out in the middle of nowhere like this. If anything, hunters would want to cut through just to see if they could collect anything useful. You did not, however, want to appear to be a threat. Getting shot through with bullets so close to relative safety would not be conducive to your plans to survive. 

The gleaming got closer and then materialized into a chain-link fence. It didn’t look new exactly, but someone had obviously gone to the trouble of scraping off some of the rust. A low humming seemed to come from the metal. Confused, you stepped closer still, hand outstretched– 

Only to feel a massive hand clutch the back of your jacket right before it threw you forcefully to the ground. Stars popped across your vision, but not so distractingly that you couldn’t hear Joel’s angry snap: 

“Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed? Are you really that fucking stupid?” 

Your face twisted once more into scowl, though you didn’t bother to sit up that time. Pain rocketed up and down your spine. If your missing arm didn’t kill you, the broken back Joel was going to give you fucking would. Be that as it may, your constant angry reaction to things only seemed to be giving you a reputation for not having any fucking clue how to live on your own. You didn’t even want to look at Joel. Giving him the satisfaction of seeing how frustrated you were would only make things, in your opinion, _worse_. 

Ellie soon stepped into your field of vision, her eyebrows raised. “It’s electrified,” she explained. _That_ got you sitting up again. 

“No _fucking_ way!” you said, almost too impressed to work in your regular note of sarcasm. Without missing a beat, Ellie bent, plucked a piece of grass from the near-barren dirt, and then poked it at the fence. A spark shot up, and, a second later, Ellie held the blackened stub of vegetation out toward you. You could not help it; your eyes widened. 

“You guys have electricity?” 

“Most of us aren’t stupid enough to walk straight into the fence,” Joel said. “But if you’re all that keen to die, go ahead. Save me the fucking trouble.” 

“What the fuck did I do to you, bastard?” you demanded hotly, mostly to cover the cold rushing through your veins at the thought of how close you had come to being fried to death. You weren’t about to tell fucking _Joel_ thank you for saving your life, though. Joel opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t have the time to actually form words before your group’s attention was caught by two figures walking across the grass toward you. 

“Hey there, Joel,” said the man as he approached. The humming, you noted, had stopped. If you weren’t so sore from falling so much, you might have tried to clamber over the gate before anyone could stop you. As it was, you couldn’t, and had to content yourself with regarding the newcomers. 

“Hey, Tommy,” Joel said shortly, though the man wasn’t looking at him. He was younger, a lot less gray, and had longer hair. His resemblance to Joel was unmistakable, even if the openly fond look he shot Ellie wasn’t so familiar. Behind Tommy stood a woman with a scowl drawn permanently into the skin around her mouth. 

“Hey, Ellie,” Tommy said with a wink in the kid’s direction. “How was the trip?” 

“Great!” Ellie smiled widely. “We got some rabbits.” 

All eyes fell upon the rabbits sitting next to your shoes. Perhaps Ellie was afraid of explaining you because she jogged a few steps back to take Shadowfax’s bridle and added: 

“And a deer. A whole fucking deer!” 

“That’s great, Ellie!” Tommy said enthusiastically. “Did you get it yourself this time?” 

She looked a bit crestfallen at that. “Well…No. I found it, but Joel's the one that got the shot in. But I’ll fucking do it next time, mark my words!” 

Tommy laughed and made to open the gate. “I’m sure you will.” 

“ _If_ there’s a next time,” Joel said. When you looked at him, his eyes bored into yours. Suddenly, the woman was in the space Tommy had opened with her gun pointed straight at you. 

“Is she a problem?” she asked, her voice cold. Tommy frowned at you, but made no move to stop the woman. 

“Yes, I’m a fucking problem,” you answered angrily. “I–” 

But Ellie stepped in front of you, arms waving, and the woman lowered her pistol. 

“We brought a friend!” she cried into the tense silence following the near-altercation. You scowled more deeply still at the friend statement, but if it got you past the electric fence, you’d forgive it. You hadn’t eaten since the day before your disaster of a hunting trip. 

“ _Ellie_ brought a friend,” Joel grumbled. Neither Tommy nor the woman moved. Ellie took a deep, shaky breath, then tugged you to your feet and forward. Their eyes fell upon your stump, then quickly shifted back to Ellie’s face. 

“She’s hurt,” she said. “She can’t make it on her own.” 

“I–” 

“Shut up,” Ellie muttered. Tommy and the woman’s eyes met, then Tommy shrugged. The woman looked just as happy about it as Joel did, but took a step back before stuffing her pistol back into her halter. Joel shoved past you, leading Callus Two, and even Ellie was quick to take off after him with Shadowfax. With your heart pounding in your throat, you snatched up the rabbits and then stepped into the gate past Tommy. Although he did not smile, his voice remained casual as he made to lead you down to the power plant: 

“Welcome to Jackson.”


	4. Survival Rule #4: Quit stealing shit.

“You must have had trouble if the fence is up and running again.” 

If Joel had wanted to make things tenser, then he certainly got his wish. The tiny table’s atmosphere, already difficult to breathe in, became suffocating. After a long moment of silence, you dragged your tired eyes away from your plate to gauge everyone else’s reaction. Ellie remained picking at her broccoli; Maria frowned; Tommy shrugged. 

“Not really.” 

“Really?” Joel shoved his empty plate away and crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Because last I heard, you didn’t have the oil stock to keep it running twenty-four-seven.” 

Tommy shifted to look at Maria, but all she did was lift her eyebrows. Apparently no help would be coming from her. He returned his attention back to Joel. 

“Last I heard, Herbert’s group was supposed to bring us some from their scavenging trip.” 

“Last I heard, they were supposed to bring you infection scanners, too.” Tommy sighed. At last, Joel’s arms unwrapped. “Tommy, face it, they aren’t coming back. They took your supplies and booked it. A trip to a border city shouldn’t take a month.” 

“Joel–” 

“What if they come back and try to take over?” 

“It’s not Herbert’s group,” Maria said. Joel’s eyes snapped over to her as she moved her chair back several inches from the table. “Just a renegade hunter group. Now that people know we’re established, we’re attracting attention, but it’s nothing we weren’t able to handle.” 

“Then what was with the fence?” 

“Just in case they came back,” Tommy answered. “It hasn’t been on the last couple of times. We figured if we melted a few of their faces, they might think twice about showing up again.” 

Joel regarded Maria seriously for a moment, but before he could ask any more questions, Ellie’s bright eyes caught the food remaining on your plate. “You gonna eat your meat?” 

With a scowl, you pushed it toward her and then slumped back in your chair. Giving her your food was the last thing you wanted to do–you were still starving, not that that was unusual–but no one had offered to cut the fucking stuff. It was too tough to manage with a fork; your knife lay obviously untouched in front of you. Ellie laughed and started to tuck in. 

It looked as though Joel, however, wasn’t finished. Tommy noticed that, too, because he shifted his chair so that he was facing you. “Let’s take a look at your arm.” 

You thrust the stump up at his face without further ceremony. He caught it between his palms and your eyes slid away from his expression. Joel’s brother’s easy-going nature was more off-putting than Joel and Ellie put together. Besides, you didn’t want to look at the rust-colored stains seeping through the bottom edge of the bandages. 

“Hm,” said Tommy. “We’ll have to do this up again to prevent any more blood loss, but I think you’ll live. Ellie, you do up this tourniquet?” 

Ellie’s eyes widened. She swallowed her mouthful of your food before answering: “Sure did!” 

“You learn this in class?” 

She shrugged, the spitting image of her uncle, or whatever the fuck Tommy was supposed to be. You didn’t understand these people. They ate dinner around a table, with chipped plates and camping silverware, like that was somehow fucking _normal_. “I read it in a book I picked up. Trying to be…” Ellie trailed away, rubbing the back of her head and looking pointedly away from Joel, whose sharp eyes were upon her. “More useful.” 

No one said anything to that. You wondered if that had anything to do with that Messiah complex of hers that Joel kept mentioning, the one that was supposed to have landed you in that tiny, suffocating room in a power plant with people you didn’t know and certainly didn’t like. 

The walkie-talkie at Maria’s hip gurgled with static. She placed a hand over it without answering, but got to her feet the very next second. Ellie blinked up at her until Maria announced, “I’ve got to get going.” Then she looked back at Ellie. “And speaking of class, you’ve missed enough. You can come with me until we reach that building.” 

“But–” Ellie broke off and threw a pleading look in Joel’s direction. He gestured for her to follow Maria; Ellie’s shoulders slumped. Still, she got to her feet. Before the door swung shut behind her, you distinctly heard Ellie mutter, “Bunch of ungrateful fucks.” Joel laughed. 

“See you at dinner, Ellie.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

With the other two women gone, the room didn’t seem any calmer. You felt your remaining muscles tense, even when you didn’t bother to look back at Tommy or Joel. Joel laughing was the weirdest thing to happen yet. He looked just as likely to find something humorous as Maria–though even _she_ seemed to smile a lot around Ellie. What was with that kid? Was she dying? Were they all just humoring her? 

No. No one _else_ could be that stupid. 

As another stroke of pain in your missing arm coursed through you, you realized that you were still staring at the door where she had left. Much as the kid annoyed you, you had to admit you felt even more displaced without her there. To avoid anyone else noticing that, you grabbed your glass and took a swig of lukewarm water, then asked: 

“You have a school?” 

When you hazarded a glance upward, Tommy was smiling. Joel was still scowling at you, but who the fuck cared what he thought at that point? Not you, that was for damn sure. As seemed to be his practice, Tommy shrugged. “Nothing major,” he answered. “Basic writing and reading, some math. Just enough to get the kids by in the world. Ellie spent some time in a military boarding school, so she’s ahead in that respect.” 

“She’d be ahead in all respects if she’d quit insisting on going scavenging with me,” Joel broke in. It was probably just your exhaustion talking–your vision was starting to pulse again, and it was taking quite a bit effort to keep yourself sitting up in your chair–but you thought you heard a hint of _pride_ in his voice. “I keep telling her I can handle it–” 

“–But she always says the same thing: ‘We go together.’” Tommy grinned. Joel rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked over to a makeshift counter to place his plastic cup at the end of a row of other cups. 

“She’s just afraid I’m gonna ditch her ass and take up smuggling again.” 

“Well, you’d have a hell of a time doing it,” said Tommy. Apparently you were now entirely forgotten. You weren’t dying, so it was fine to just let you sit there and faint again. Probably you’d wake up on the floor. It wasn’t as though Joel gave enough of a shit to put you anywhere you’d actually want to be. “Not sure how many more quarantine zones are still in effect. Speaking of, we just had a group from your old base come a few days back. You didn’t make too many bad enemies, did you?” 

“None that I can’t handle.” 

The corners of Tommy’s mouth twitched down, but apparently he wasn’t in the mood to bicker with his brother. Instead, he returned his attention back to you, clasping his hands in front of him and looking at his fingers, as though your face was unpleasant. Hell, it probably was. Bathing was a luxury you frequently weren’t afforded, and you were pretty sure you’d broken your nose in a fight a few weeks back. For all you knew, all that fucking blood was still there. 

“Speaking of teaching,” Tommy said with an air of having to force the words out. “We might have you do that, if you’ve got anything worth passing on. You can’t hunt in your condition, and we can’t let you stay for free.” 

“I don’t like kids,” you said mulishly. Joel hadn’t moved from over by the wall, but you saw his hands contract into fists. “I’ve done worse in exchange for room and board, though.” 

“What’s that mean?” Tommy asked. You took a leaf out of his book and shrugged in answer. You did not, however, elaborate. The throbbing in your eyes got stronger, but you did not want either Joel or Tommy to think you were weaker than they already did. Focusing on remaining upright, though, left you completely open to surprise when Joel smashed his hands into the table in front of you. 

"Shit!” you said, but fell silent when you found his angry face only a few inches away from your nose. 

“Are you a Firefly?” he growled. 

“No.” You tried to scowl right back at him, but the note of apprehension in your voice probably didn’t help matters. Even better, it didn’t look as though Joel believed you. His frown only grew more pronounced, and then his hands were on your shoulders. 

“Were you _ever_ a Firefly?” 

“Fuck no, I wasn’t a Firefly!” you snapped. Though you twisted somewhat frantically in his grip, Joel didn’t let go. “Lay off!” 

But Joel didn’t let go. His fingers only grew tighter around you, and tighter still. You didn’t have the strength to fight him off. One of your feet smashed into his shin, but you might as well have been made of feathers for all the effect that had. That horrible note of hysteria started to crawl up your throat again, but before it could clamber out, Tommy said, quite pleasantly: 

“Joel, would you kindly not hurt my guests when they aren’t actively trying to murder you?” 

“Tommy, do you know why this woman doesn’t have one of her arms? Did Ellie make you aware of that little detail?” 

“She did.” He inclined his head. “And, like Ellie, I’m pretty sure she would have turned by now, unless she’s immune as well.” 

“That doesn’t make things okay.” 

“Joel.” 

With something that sounded very like a snarl, Joel released you, threw his hands into the air, and then stalked back over to the cups. “You and Ellie are going to be the fucking end of me.” 

“She already was,” said Tommy. Meanwhile, your vision was practically gone. Struggle as you might have, you just couldn’t remain sitting up straight. Through the fog, you saw Tommy’s head turn back to you. “Now, sweetheart, I know you’re probably tired–” 

“Figured that out have you?” you asked, voice raspy. Dammit. At this rate, Joel was going to have the last laugh. 

“Yes, I suppose I have. We’ll get you to a room here in a minute and you can take a nap. No need to worry about your job or station today. But before you go, I’m going to need your name.” 

“None of your fucking business.” 

“We need something to go by,” he insisted. “And even if you are a Firefly, it’s not as though we have a stash of medals to check. Now, if you don’t give me your name, I suppose I’ll have to do as Joel suggested and lock you up until we have a better idea of who you are.” 

So they weren’t going to lock you up either way? What a bunch of fucking morons. What if you were with that group they talked about earlier? What if you were a Trojan horse? But you were too tired to fuck around with them. All you wanted to do was curl up somewhere away from Joel and Ellie and sleep. 

“[Name],” you said shortly. 

“Family name?” Joel growled. You summoned up enough energy to glare straight across the room at him. 

“Hasn’t mattered in sixteen years,” you said. “Can’t imagine why it’d matter now.” 

“You–” 

Tommy lifted a hand. “Maria and I are the ones running this joint, Joel. That’s good enough for me.” 

The sound of his chair scraping against the concrete floor jolted you enough awake to get to your own feet. Standing was difficult, but not impossible, and no way in hell were you going to let Joel see anyone else carrying you or otherwise offering support. You shot him a defiant glare and then followed Tommy out of the room. Joel’s footsteps sounded behind you shortly after; you made a decision to pointedly ignore him. Getting an idea of your surroundings would benefit you better than giving him the time of day anyhow. You only caught snatches of conversation from the two of them, most following the same subject: 

“You know, if you hate Ellie following you out there–” 

“I don’t.” 

After leading you outside for a short walk, Tommy ducked into another building and you followed suit. The gray halls were lit, every so often, by grated windows. Several doors led off to what you could only assume were other rooms. Busted cabinets and drawers littered the path; several times Tommy had to shove past them. As you passed one such cabinet, you caught a glimpse of a pair of familiar handles. It occurred to you that Ellie had taken both your pistol and her knife with her when she and Maria had left. 

You feigned a stumble, snatched the scissors, and slid them into the pocket of your jacket. The shaking as you righted yourself was completely natural, and had Tommy looking at you with worry in his eyes. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” you said, but a moment later, and Joel’s hand was on your shoulder again, pushing you into the wall. 

“Give 'em back.” 

“Give what back?” 

“Don’t play fucking stupid with me.” 

“I don’t have–” But his fingers slid into your pocket and wrenched out the recently acquired weapon. His eyes looked pointedly at the scissors, then at you. If you hadn’t been so worried he was going to punch your face in, you would have shoved your own hand sullenly into that same pocket. With a scoff, Joel threw the scissors back into the drawer. 

“Quit stealing shit,” he said. “That ain’t yours. Nothing here is yours.” 

“It’s just a pair of fucking scissors,” you shouted as he released you and wandered back up the hall in the direction you had been going. “You want me to run around with absolutely no way of defending myself?” 

“If it'd get you outta my hair quicker.” 

He wasn’t looking–no doubt he had some idea of your intentions despite this–so you took the scissors again before scuttling after him. Tommy watched you all the while. It was _his_ fucking settlement. If he didn’t care, why the fuck should Joel? Maybe that explained the extremely dour look Joel was throwing him when you caught up to them. 

Tommy didn’t elaborate. He reached past you to turn the knob on the nearby door. Inside lay a tiny, dark room with most of the space taken up by something that must have helped power the plant in its hay day. A jumble of musty, moth-eaten blankets and a smashed pillow were jammed up beside the boxy equipment. Only you stepped in; there wasn’t enough room for anyone else. 

“You can stay in here,” Tommy said from behind you. “We’ll have Ell–We’ll have someone come get you when it’s time for dinner. We’ll be eating as a community. Maybe you’ll find someone you know.” 

“That would be fucking fantastic,” you said. The sarcasm was barely there, but you couldn’t be bothered to worry much about that. Tommy let out a dry chuckle. 

“Now where have I heard that before?” 

“Don’t start, Tommy,” said Joel. You turned back and flipped him the bird before setting your bag down and walking over to the bed. A nap was very much in order. 

“You’re welcome,” Joel said. Huh. Maybe Ellie _was_ his daughter. You flipped him off a second time without looking. 

“Fuckin’ A, man.” 

When Tommy shut the door, you got the feeling it was to hide you from view as quickly as possible. 


	5. Survival Rule #5: Don't touch anything.

It was never the clicking that bothered you about later stages of the infection. You could easily tune out a sound. Besides, it made them easier to look out for. No, what you didn’t like, what truly frightened you about clickers, was the way they _moved–_ the way their limbs floundered, how their heads whipped back forth, how their feet scuffed along the ground beneath them. 

When a clicker came for you, that was all you could see. It lurched and stumbled, but with your back pressed against a tree, you had nowhere to run. All the noise it was making would probably draw the rest of them in. All your nights of staying huddled in that tree hollow and waiting for them to migrate were for not. Soon you would feel the snap of its chipped and rotting teeth against your neck. 

Both of your hands scrabbled through the moist earth around your tree. Maybe you hadn’t tossed your pistol into the forest behind you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away to look properly. The clicker was getting closer and closer, closer and closer, until it kneeled in front of you, its head still twitching madly, the clicking still sputtering from its throat. 

You whimpered, but all that did was draw the clicker’s dirty, broken fingernails toward your face. The thumbs dragged slowly up your cheeks until both were pressing, harder and harder, into your eyelids. 

“You let it take my eyes,” said the familiar voice of a young child. “Can I borrow yours?” 

Pain shot up once more through your missing arm and you rocketed upward in fog of cold sweat. Your breath swooshed in and out of your chest as your eyes, still thankfully whole, darted around your tiny prison cell of a room. There _was_ a window, but all it was doing was pumping warm afternoon light inside. Still, you felt cold and clammy with the residue of your nightmare sticking to your face. How many times were you going to have that one before it lost its shock-value? For fuck’s sake, it had been sixteen years! 

Your arm gave another nasty throb; you clapped your remaining palm around it. Despite your recent nap, you felt more lightheaded before. A quick look about your sleeping space told you why: blood was smeared across the wall. Apparently you had been thrashing in your sleep. How fucking mature of you. That would certainly get the others to respect you. 

“I’m not waiting around! Get the hell up!” Along with those words, someone banged on your door. From the sound of it–and the echoed banging in your head–they’d been at it for a while. Maybe _that_ had been what woke you up. Not that you were complaining. You appreciated getting torn away before the gouging started. 

With a quiet groan, you slipped your feet out of your sheets and walked over to the door. When you wrenched it open, however, it was to find a scowling Joel standing outside. He did not smile when he spotted you, and, for about a minute, neither of you spoke. You had half a mind to slam the door in his face and get back to sleep. Surely it wasn’t dinner time already? 

“What?” you demanded when he didn’t speak. He’d changed his shirt, you noted. Plaid still, and a different color, but at least less dirty. Looking down at your array of clothing only made you feel angrier. The half by your old arm was crusty and red-brown with dried blood. 

“Infirmary,” he answered shortly. “Now.” 

“Huh?” Slowly, one of your eyebrows lifted. A moment later, and the other followed. “Where’s Ellie? Wasn’t she supposed to come get me for dinner?” 

“Ellie’s busy. She remembered that no one had changed your bandages.” 

“So?” 

“So,” Joel rolled his eyes, looking the most casual you had ever seen him, “she _insisted_ I come and take care of that for you.” 

“Tell her thanks but no fucking thanks.” 

Casual Joel did not mean casual banter. That became very clear shortly thereafter, when his mouth set and he looked back at you. His eyes slid down, all the way to your stump, which was hurting quite a bit more than it had since Ellie had made you a better tourniquet. You tried to step back inside your room to hide the worst of it, but Joel had already spotted the blood and already looked angrier than ever. 

“Infirmary,” he said again, and took your still-existing arm. “ _Now_.” 

He yanked, and before you could protest, you were tripping after him. Joel released you immediately, maybe afraid that you had fucking fungus cooties on your skin. At least you had worn your shoes to sleep. Splinters littered the hallway, something you had not taken note of on your way in. 

Joel was not much of a talker. Several people met the two of you on your way out, but shied away as soon as they spotted Joel. He didn’t seem to notice, and didn’t answer those that did hazard throwing greetings his way. A few times, his walkie-talkie–he must have picked one up during your nap–gurgled, but he ignored it. You weren’t sure why, as a few of them sounded a little frantic. 

Maybe he was taking you out to pasture. 

Cold fear flooded through your body at the thought of being killed. You were so close to having made it just a little longer. You couldn’t die! You just _couldn’t_. But Joel, if he noticed your sudden panic, ignored it as he led you outside and through the maze of cement corridors. 

The thought of running off occurred to you. Tommy seemed like an absolute idiot when it came to judging people. He wouldn’t let Joel murder you–unless that whole charitable persona from earlier had actually just been a persona. They might have just been waiting for Ellie to become preoccupied before delivering a headshot. Your breath began to stick to your throat; your head spun; a painful pulse drummed in your missing limb. 

Joel pushed a door ahead of you open and then stepped aside to allow you a good look at a slightly larger, more light looking room inside. You took a half-step backward, tensed to run. In the same moment that Joel seemed to sense that, to snap to attention so that he could run after you, two gunshots sounded from somewhere within the compound. Distracted, Joel turned toward the source of the noise. Distracted yourself, you didn’t take the opportunity to sprint away. 

“We have word that an infected has been brought into the facility,” came Maria’s voice, crackling over Joel’s walkie-talkie. “Repeat, we have infected _inside_ the facility.” 

“Shit!” In a flash, Joel had lifted the device to his mouth. “Any idea where it is?” 

“No. These _morons_ shot the messengers before we could get that much out of them. Sounds like they brought it in a couple days ago. It won’t be a clicker, but we might have a runner, if they change before we can take it out.” 

“I’ll check things out. Do you have Ellie?” 

“She’s right here.” 

Joel nodded, though Maria would not be able to see him. Meanwhile, your cold sweat had returned in full force. Your head swiveled about, clicker-like, as you tried to take in your surroundings. Runners didn’t give you much warning before they came for you. You did not, however, have any time to plan. A bell began to ring out across the grounds; several people screamed, and Joel took a few running steps past you before he turned back with a grimace. 

“Get in there! And don’t fucking touch anything!” 

He was gone before you could do so much as fucking nod. For several tense seconds, you stood there, looking about with fear gnawing at your thinking process and your heart throbbing in your palm. Maybe–just maybe–Joel was right. At least inside the infirmary building there was only one exit, and if you closed the door, why would any runner have a reason to come after you? You pelted inside as quickly as your drained legs could carry you, then slammed the door shut, turned about, and slid down it, panting. 

That was when you heard the grunting. 

Hesitantly, hardly daring to believe it, you looked up through your sheet of grimy hair. Two beds were stationed in the sunlit room, and one had twisted, dirty sheets sitting in tangled mounds across the mattress. An equally twisted, dirty man stood next to it, his eyes and shoulders rolling. A strangled grunt broke from his busted lips; his face stretched as he stared down at you. 

Newly turned. You knew that look anywhere. Fuck if that did you any good. Even if that man knew what was going on, it wouldn't stop him from ripping your throat out–or worse. The best you could hope for was to appease him long enough to get the fuck out of there. With as smooth and slow a movement as you could manage, you rose from the floor. 

“Look–” 

A strangled cry tore out of his mouth and then the man threw himself at you. You didn't even have time to swear. You jumped to the side. Still unused to your new weight, you flailed upon landing–and knocked over several metal shelves holding bandages and other medications. The resounding crash bothered your assailant not at all. One shelf clipped your shoulder, but you stepped away quickly enough to avoid being crushed. Your body twisted around as you tried to make it toward the bed; you tripped. Your single hand scrabbled for the sheets. 

All the while, the man screamed incoherently. How the fuck no one else had heard, you didn’t know. Really? Joel’s first thought hadn’t been the fucking infirmary? Or maybe he knew it was there and he just wanted your death to look like an accident. 

The man’s gait might have been no better than yours, but the next time he ran for you, he made it. His hands smashed into your shoulders and sent you toppling backward across the mattress. You landed back-first on the tile floor. His filthy teeth snapped at you again and again as you scrambled to get back on your feet. His clawed hands swiped through the air right in front of your face as he drew closer and closer to the upper half of your body. 

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you shrieked as your legs kicked wildly and uselessly in the air behind him. You threw your shoulders from side to side to no avail. You were going to die in a shitty fucking infirmary because of a fucking runner! The only thing you had was a fucking pair of scissors and– 

–and why the fuck weren’t you using them? You twisted around, still kicking, beating the man around the face and head with your stump of an arm as you withdrew the scissors from your pocket. The movement caught the man’s attention. His mouth snapped closer to that limb. 

“Not my other arm, motherfucker!” you shouted, and thrust the blades into his neck. They weren’t exactly sharp, and he didn’t stop moving. His hands crept around your neck, but you’d made a dent. Without waiting for further prompting, you stabbed again–and again and again and again. Blood splattered your face, got in your eyes, but you didn’t care. The man was still squirming, and your stump wasn’t doing much to hold him down. “Stay down, you–” 

A single gunshot rang out in the room; the man stopped moving immediately. A second later and he rolled off you, landing with a thud on the floor at your side. 

Joel stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light outside. The barrel of his rifle leaked smoke into the air, and one of his eyes remained looking straight down it until the runner gave a final, great twitch, and lay still. 

“I think I need those new bandages now,” you said breathlessly after several minutes had passed. Looking distinctly disconcerted, Joel paused before putting his gun away and walking inside to scoop up a wad of bandages left on the floor. 

“Yeah,” he said as he bent down to help you get onto the nearby bloodstained bed. “I’ll get right on that.” 

“Thanks."


	6. Survival Rule #6: Don't piss off the locals.

Despite the earlier warning from Tommy, dinner was much more chaotic and violent than you expected. The close shave with the infected in the compound certainly hadn’t done anything for anyone’s mood. Surely the evening meal didn’t _normally_ involve so much shouting. Or at least, you assumed as much, until you saw the looks a few of the others there threw Joel when he wandered past them. You hurried in his wake before they could close ranks; no telling how they treated the newbies in Jackson.

But Joel’s presence didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the proceedings. In fact, once he showed up to take a seat at the head table, several of the men bellowing at Tommy and Maria got _louder_. You, however, barely paid attention as you settled yourself in at one of the remaining tables and tried to make yourself look small.

“Are you fucking kidding me with this?” one red-headed guy in need of a haircut bellowed. “And _you’re_ supposed to be in charge around here?”

To both Tommy and Maria’s credit, neither appeared ruffled in the slightest. Maria was back to looking bored and annoyed. Tommy just watched impassively, although you caught him throwing a few glances toward Joel, who was watching the whole affair through eyes so narrow you weren’t sure he wasn’t actually napping instead.

“You expect us to stay when you’re gonna let riffraff in from all over? How the fuck are we supposed to settle down when it’s not any safer _here_ than out there?”

“We didn’t send out an open invitation, Charles,” Maria said, her voice flat and emotionless. “In fact, I don’t even remembering inviting _you_.”

“You gonna let your bitch wife talk to me like that?” Charles demanded of Tommy. He responded with a slight angling of his eyebrows–at last, a negative emotion! But before Tommy could tell Charles to shove it up his ass, Charles continued, “I don’t know what you people are playing at here, acting like a damn family. That’s not how things work these days!”

“That’s how things work here,” Tommy answered. His voice sounded almost cold. “And if you don’t like that, leave now and I’ll let you keep your head intact. ‘Cause trust me, if you say that about Maria one more time, I’ll shoot your damn brains out.”

“Ha. As though you'd have the guts,” Charles drawled, and several of the men around him tittered. Ugh, why was Tommy even bothering? You knew their type. You _were_ their type. He should have shot Charles there and made an example of him. 

Maybe if you had been in Jackson longer than four hours, you might have cared to hear where the argument went. Maybe you should have anyway. Paying attention might have helped give you a better grasp of your hosts and their personalities. After all, all you knew about Tommy was that he appeared genuinely pleasant, and all you knew about Maria was that she liked Ellie. Everyone seemed to like Ellie. You wondered if Charles did, too.

But even that subject didn’t do much to maintain your interest. Lunch had been hours ago, and your first meal in days. Your five pieces of broccoli and cup of water hadn’t exactly filled you up. With your stomach cramping angrily every five seconds, it was difficult to concentrate on much of anything. Weren’t you in a fucking cafeteria? Why hadn’t Joel at least pointed you toward the food? It was not as though you cared about his family’s sordid affairs. You just wanted to eat.

Something clanked onto the table behind you. Blinking, you turned and spotted a tray with four small bowls on it. You didn’t really have to look up to see who had brought it, but you did. Ellie flashed you a smile before she sat down and picked up one of the tiny bowls of what you could only assumed were canned peaches.

“So, what’d I miss?” she asked without preamble, her mouth full of orange fruit. You frowned at her, but then shrugged, too tired to bother arguing with or ignoring her at that moment. A slow breath blew out your nose before you answered:

“There was a runner inside the walls and everyone is pissed off about it and threatening to leave–or being told they have to leave unless they want shot.”

“No, I heard _that_.” Ellie rolled her eyes. “I’m not fucking deaf. What’d _you_ have to do with it?”

“What makes you think I had something to do with it?”

She had to swallow her hard dinner roll before she could speak again. In the interim time, you snatched up your own piece of bread and practically inhaled it. If you didn’t get a move on eating your dinner, Ellie would probably take your food again, the fucking brat. For the time being, however, she seemed preoccupied. Ellie nodded at your missing arm.

“Your bandages are clean.”

“So?”

“So you couldn’t do that by yourself, and Tommy and Maria have been pretty fucking busy fielding complaints since I asked Joel to check on you.” She paused and her eyes flicked up to yours. “He wouldn’t’ve changed ‘em if you hadn’t earned it.”

Earned it? Stabbing a runner in the neck with a pair of fucking scissors Joel hadn’t wanted you stealing in the first place was _earning_ having your bandages changed? Unless he’d wanted to clean your corpse off the infirmary floor as well, he had _had_ to change the fucking things! Ellie must have noticed your expression because she rolled her eyes again before grabbing her last bowl, one of something that looked like stew.

“So how’d you do it?” she asked.

You snorted as you gulped down your stew–at least it didn’t involve cutting things. Hell, you didn’t even need to use a spoon. Just lift the rim to your lips, exactly the way Dad always told you not to. At least Hell on Earth had afforded you _some_ benefits. When you finished, you licked your lips and eyed the peaches. Dessert was not one of those benefits life frequently handed you, but your stomach already felt full to bursting.

Your choices came down to eating them and feeling sick the rest of the evening or giving them to Ellie. She was already eyeing the fruit, her gaze darting between the bowl and your face. You had half a mind to swallow them in one gulp, but then, she _was_ just a kid. She was still growing and needed the food more than you did. Feeling annoyed with yourself, you pushed the bowl toward her and looked away so you wouldn’t have to watch her gulp them down.

“Stabbed the runner a few times in the neck,” you answered casually. Ellie dropped the empty plastic bowl with a clatter.

“Hey, you killed something! With only one arm and everything!”

“Joel showed up and shot it,” you said, that time with a sour note to your voice. Did she have to sound so fucking proud of you? So you stabbed it a few times, so what? That didn’t mean you could leave. That didn’t mean the next one wouldn’t manage to bite you. Besides, she was a kid, and had no business trying to encourage you.

You didn’t have time to tell Ellie what for, because just as you thought to, the fight between Charles’ gang and the Jackson leaders flared up so high that even you could not ignore it. Ellie got quickly to her feet, having spotted Joel standing two inches in front of Charles and looking livid.

“Are you sayin’ you’re gonna start some kind of revolt?”

“Well, I sure as hell am not leaving without a fight! This here is damn good property, and some of those hunters out there know where they can come trade. Why leave it to this pansy-ass runt to run into the ground?”

“You’re out of line.”

“What, they got you whipped, too, Joel? If I didn’t know better, I’d say that girl of yours is what's done it. She must be pretty good in bed if you’re sticking around these digs for her.”

You heard Ellie’s sharp intake of breath. When you looked up at her, she’d gone white and her fists were shaking. No sooner had you noticed that, however, than did Joel make the angriest sound you’d heard from him yet, tackle Charles to the ground, and start pummeling every inch of him that he could reach.

Those around you all got to their feet and began shouting and jeering themselves. Ellie started shoving her way through the crowd toward the continued sounds of brawling. Without thinking, you stood and followed her. When at last the two of you pushed through, Tommy was dragging Joel off of Charles. Charles lay there on the ground, still conscious, but clearly not interested in continuing the fight. His cronies soon crowded around him, swearing, until Maria, without even rising from her seat, leveled her gun at them.

“That’s enough,” she said coolly. A few of the men shifted uncomfortably as she got off her chair and walked toward them until she came to a stop at Tommy’s side. Slowly, Charles sat up and looked angrily at the two of them.

“But beating the shit out of me is okay, is it? You gonna kick him out, too?”

Tommy shook his head and pushed Joel behind him–or, rather, Joel _let_ Tommy push him back. The look he continued to give Charles was one of purest venom; his shoulders continued to heave.

“No,” said Tommy. “I’d say that one was called for. Now, Charles, I really think you had better leave. And take your posse with you.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort, but Maria unlatched the safety on her gun and he froze instantly.

“Now,” she said. “Anthony, Stephen, show them off, will you?”

Another man with a walkie-talkie on his hip broke free of the throng to heave Charles to his feet. As he did, a second showed up to help. With that done, he took out his revolver and gestured toward the door with it. Although none of them looked happy about it, all the men started to troop out.

What, were they fucking _stupid_? They still had their weapons on them. A group of four could easily kill their two bodyguards. If Charles was serious about starting a rebellion, that’d be the way to do it. But after nearly five whole minutes of silence, Tommy seemed to deem the situation as over and done with. He smiled at the remaining crowd, and then glanced over at Joel, who nodded once, whatever that meant.

“Well now, wasn’t that exciting?” Tommy asked. “How about we all discuss this like proper adults now, so none of the rest of you has to leave. Deal?”

“He was right,” you said loudly. “You need some fucking fungus detectors.”

Tommy paused, and then spun until he spotted you standing next to Ellie. You didn’t stay there long. Now that all the attention was on you, you took several steps into the large empty circle around Tommy, Maria, and Joel.

“Now, [Name],” Tommy said. “You’ve only been here for a few hours. You don’t really get a say in things ‘round here.”

“If I’m fucking stuck here, I fucking do. And you’d be a moron to ignore that guy. Frankly, I haven’t seen that you _do_ have what it takes to be in charge here.”

“If you agree with him, I suppose you might as well follow after him.”

“Fine!” You threw your arm (and the remains of the other) into the air. You immediately wished you had not; that really fucking hurt. “Kick me out. Am I supposed to give a shit? I haven’t even been here a day and I can tell this place is going to Hell. You think I want to stay here while you let in every person from here clear to what used to be Florida without a background check? Because I sure as fuck don’t!”

“And where would you be if Ellie hadn’t dragged you here?” he asked calmly.

“On my own, which I prefer.”

“You wouldn’t last a day out there without your arm.”

“Better dead trying to survive than getting eaten by an infected in a fucking infirmary. At least that way I can go out with some dignity. But if you want this place to survive, you need some fucking rules and regulations.”

“What you’re talking about is a Quarantine Zone.”

“Maybe that’s the only way we can fucking do things anymore. Did you ever think about that?”

Joel was standing right next to you, and until then, he’d simply watched. At those words, however, he grabbed you roughly on the shoulder, bending slightly to growl in your ear:

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Can you try not to piss off the locals? I don’t believe you were invited to throw in your two cents here.”

“Fine. Then _you_ do it.”

Joel scowled down at you, and in that silence, you could feel every eye in the room trained on your stump. What sort of conclusions the group was making, you had no idea, but they couldn’t be good. If they found out Tommy had let you in when you’d admitted to getting bit, you wouldn’t give him or Maria more than a day for keeping their positions as top dogs.

“Joel?” Tommy said. Joel let out something between a grumble and a snort. He looked pointedly away from Tommy as he answered:

“They’re both right.”

The entire cafeteria erupted in noise. You heard several distinct words of agreement–“How do we know it’s safer here? It’s probably _less_ safe! Word is starting to get out!”–and plenty of disagreement–“We didn’t travel halfway across the damn country for another Zone!” After staring long and hard at Joel, you saw Tommy’s shoulders drop with a sigh.

“All right!” he shouted. “All right!”

But no one calmed down. Somehow, you’d managed to start the revolt Charles had been talking about–or so you thought, until Ellie rushed into the circle, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted:

“Everybody shut the fuck up!”

They did. Almost instantly. Tommy took a deep breath, then looked at her.

“Thanks, Ellie.”

“You’re welcome,” she said primly. Another deep breath, and Tommy started to walk around the edge of the open circle.

“Look, Joel and [Name]…and Charles have a point. But you all afraid of this becoming another Quarantine Zone also have a point. This isn’t a decision we can make right away. I say we take three days–” Joel inhaled. “ _Two_ days,” Tommy amended, “and then come back here and take a vote. We’ll decide what to do from there.”

He paused. No one argued. Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Tommy clapped twice and raised his voice:

“Dinner is over! Please be at your scheduled work sites by eight AM as usual tomorrow.”

The tension in your shoulders dissipated. Once you felt comfortable enough to look around, you did. Maria was watching Tommy, but, as usual, Ellie was watching you, her face unreadable. As the crowd dispersed, you made to follow, to get back to your bed. Unfortunately, the rest of the family group followed. Joel was the last to leave, and Tommy slammed the door shut behind him to get his attention.

“What?” Joel asked.

“Joel, Maria and I are very happy that you and Ellie decided to settle down here after that whole Firefly affair,” said Tommy, “but this is not your town. You ain’t in charge here, and you need to quit acting like you are.”

“Excuse me,” Joel said, firing up at once, “but that little incident a few hours ago could have infected the whole fucking place. Is that what you want for your little dream city, Tommy? Is it?”

“We both know that’s not the problem here. I know you just want to keep things safe for Ellie. That doesn’t change a damn thing. If we’re gonna have a problem, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave–and have Ellie stay.”

An incredibly tense quiet followed those words. Joel seemed to get even taller, until he towered above the rest of the group as he glowered at Tommy. “Like hell you will.”

Tommy didn’t flinch. “That’s the deal.”

Suddenly, Ellie was right beside the two of them. Tommy looked at her, and she said, “Where Joel goes, I go.”

“I know, Ellie. But sometimes leaders gotta make the tough decisions.”

He left it at that. Without looking back, he and Maria walked off toward one of the guard stations. Joel watched them leave, looking upset. You couldn’t resist a dig of your own, now that you were well enough to manage one:

“What was that about not pissing off the locals?”

His eyes fell upon you. His gaze lingered there for a moment, then:

“Shut up.”

And he stalked away in the opposite direction.


	7. Survival Rule #7: First impressions are important, so don't be yourself.

It didn’t take long to get used to Ellie waking you up by forcing herself into your room. That didn’t mean you had to like it. Two weeks into your stay at Jackson, and it was pretty clear she didn’t have any shits to give in regards to personal space. It didn’t help that all the adults in her family typically let her have the run of things, either. You tried your hardest to get her in line, but you might as well have been swearing at the corn crops for all the good you did.

“Oh, just save it,” Ellie said one morning. “In case you’ve forgotten, you actually have to start working today, and unless you want kicked out, you can’t miss it.”

“Who said I didn’t want kicked out?” you groaned as you threw your good arm over your eyes. Even without looking, though, you knew Ellie would be scowling at that. A second later, she tugged at your shoulders.

“I already let you skip breakfast.”

“Who are you, my fucking mother?”

“No, I’m your personal fucking alarm clock ‘cause you can’t be half-assed to get up in the morning. Come _on_.” She tugged harder. Luckily, you were a bit too heavy for her to properly move, else you might have fallen on top of her. At last you shifted your arm away from your face.

“Fine. Get out so I can get dressed.”

Ellie huffed, stood, and crossed her arms for only a moment before she turned as quickly as she could in the close quarters of your “room.” “Fine, but if you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming back in, tits or no tits.”

You didn’t bother to sit up until the door snicked shut behind her. No doubt Ellie was still standing out there and would make good on her promise to barge in as soon as she decided you’d gone back to sleep. That didn’t make your movements any less syrupy as you gathered up your spare set of clothing and began to tug off the one you already had on.

Your missing arm didn’t make getting dressed any easier. You still kept trying to do things with it. Unfortunately, this made you look stupid on top of incompetent. There weren’t a lot of helpful jobs you could do in your current state. Cooking, cleaning, farming, scavenging, keeping watch–they all required two hands, or at least more grace than you could manage in your current state. Your attitude–most likely–didn’t help matters, which was probably why Tommy had looked so tired the night before:

_“I really can’t think of anything other than helping out with the kids. I know you don’t like 'em,”_ he’d added, _“but you haven’t really taken to anything else."_

_“What the fuck am I supposed to teach them if I can’t do anything?”_

_“You survived on your own for a few years, right?”_

_“I still don’t have a fucking arm.”_

_“Ellie can help you.”_

Fantastic. So not only did he expect you to interact with human beings decades younger than those you found approachable, but one such human being was going to _do_ everything while you stood there and presumably directed. Ellie took her job assignment very seriously. It gave her something to do during lessons that for her would only be review.

By the time those memories finished parading through your head, your borrowed jeans and long-sleeved shirt were where you meant them to be. The sleeve around your stump dangled several inches below where your arm ended, a hazard if you’d ever seen one, but you were too proud to ask Ellie to do it up better, even when you opened the door five seconds later to find her leaning against the opposite wall. She straightened, before quickly catching up as you strode down the dim hallway.

Outside, the sun had barely risen. The sky was still the calming lavender-blue of not-quite dawn. Well, anywhere else, it would have been calming. If you got up early enough, everything was quiet. It was easier to hear the runners, the clickers, even the stalkers when the rest of the world was silent. You could slip in and out, find items, lose items, find people, lose people. In Jackson, everyone was already up, already watching.

One such woman, a blonde from your disastrous attempt at kitchen duty the day before, brushed past you with a glare that might have melted marble. Ellie’s eyebrows rose at that.

“Yikes,” she said. You didn’t respond. “So, are you nervous?”

“No,” you said flatly, because _obviously_ you were. What was there to be nervous about, talking to a bunch of grade-schoolers, or their parents that thought you had something to do with that little runner mishap a few weeks back? You felt nervous, and you felt irritated, at your stupid arm, at Ellie’s stupid enthusiasm, and your stupid fucking situation. You almost missed feeling numb– _almost_.

“You’re nervous,” she said. “Why are you nervous? Didn’t you go to school?”

“I went to high school. I didn’t even get to graduate, and that has jack shit to do with teaching a bunch of eight-year-olds how to get themselves slaughtered in the woods.”

“They’re not going to get slaughtered. Quit being so melodramatic,” said Ellie. “Besides, high school was at least _something_. I wish I could have gone to a real school.”

“Trust me, kid. It didn’t help at all.”

“Trust me, bitch. It would’ve meant something.”

“Listen, you little–”

“Do you really wanna finish that sentence?” came a gruff, familiar voice from behind you. Slowly, you turned to gaze sullenly up at Joel. Ellie, of course, had the opposite reaction.

“Hey!” she said with a slight bounce. “I thought you had watch duty today.”

“I do,” he answered. “I’m watching _her_.”

“ _Me_?” you asked when Joel didn’t so much as look at you. It’d been like that since the meeting a couple weeks back. You hadn’t seen him outside of meals, and even then he ignored you. At that very moment, however, Joel’s eyes flashed in your direction.

“Yes, you.”

“What did I do?”

“From what I hear, you tried to stab a woman in the kitchen yesterday.”

“Because she said I was fucking useless!”

“You _are_ useless,” Joel said. “You going to try and take my head off, too?”

God, if only. But you knew enough to not pick fights you couldn’t win, and Joel was better armed in every sense of the word. You scowled down at your boots. “No…”

“I didn’t think so.” Your troop fell into silence as you neared the gate. Someone must have warned the people manning it that day that class was being held outside, and that Joel would be accompanying the group, because no one asked you anything before the doors ground open. “Now, I don’t know if I need to say this,” he continued in a sarcastically light tone, “but if you try to stab the kids, you’re out. The only reason you’re not out after yesterday is–”

“Because I’m fucking useless and she managed to beat the crap out of me with her bare hands. I _know_. Tommy already said. Give it a rest.”

Joel paused long enough to look at you, then snorted and continued on his way. Ellie soon fell into step beside you.

“Did you really try to stab somebody?” she asked. 

You didn’t answer. 

“Jeez. You’ve really got a death wish, don’t you?”

“And you just keep prolonging it coming true,” you said. Ellie, however, no longer seemed in the mood to trade banter. She grimaced.

“Don’t be like that around the rest of the kids, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said. “I’ll give that a shot.”

“I’m serious,” Ellie said fiercely, and suddenly she was in front of you, arms thrown out. You frowned at her, heaving a sigh.

“What does it _matter_?”

She took a deep breath to compose herself, which only caused your frown to deepen. On the other hand, stopping to talk to Ellie prevented you from getting to class, so you were more willing than usual to give her thinking time. After a prolonged moment, her eyes found yours. “First impressions are important.”

“So?”

“So don’t be yourself.”

With that cryptic comment, Ellie bounded after Joel. Despite her long strides, she made barely any noise as her feet covered the hardened earth. You rolled your eyes and followed after. As you drew nearer to the electric fence (which was, thankfully, not on that day), you spotted a knot of people standing by the gate. Next to them stood another man of Joel’s proportions, who nodded upon spotting Joel, and walked back to the plant.

“Hey, guys!” Ellie said to a group of eight other children, ranging from what you assumed was ten years younger than Ellie to a couple years older. They murmured a collective hello, their wide, round eyes staring up at Joel. You couldn’t imagine why, except that he was large enough to eat them. When he remained silent in their midst, one of the younger ones piped up:

“Where’s Miss Daisy?”

“She has the day off,” Ellie answered. She threw Joel a look, but he acted as though he hadn’t noticed.

“Miss Rachel?”

“She…also has the day off.” Ellie bit her lip and rocked backward and forward on the balls of her feet. Then, quite suddenly, she took a wide step to the left and gestured in your direction. “Miss [Name] is going to teach us today!”

“Teach us what?” asked the girl that looked the oldest in the group. Ellie frowned, but smiled again soon after, brushing some hair out of her face.

“Trapping.”

“Trapping?”

“Yep,” said Ellie. Joel, you noticed, hadn’t said a word. He was leaning against the fence, looking up at the brightening shape of the compound beyond the children. “Trapping. Take it away, Miss [Name].”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even fucking yell at Ellie for calling you ‘Miss [Name].’ Every single eye in that group of tiny, impressionable children trained on you, and you were frozen. Their eyes–whole, trusting. Their fingers–tiny, unscarred. Eyeless. Voiceless. Your fault. Dead. More your fault.

You were off before you even fully made the decision to leave. Your boots smashed into the foliage beneath your feet as you rushed into the forest nearby. The only thing your mind could focus on was your breath billowing wildly into your ears. Breath. Children. Death. Breath. Children. Death. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

It didn’t take long for your lopsided running and your easy exhaustion to keep you from going much further. Pretty soon, your legs were shaking with the effort of simple walking. Jackson remained in sight even as, trembling, you huddled against a tree trunk. Maybe no one would come find you. You hoped–or maybe didn’t. Either way, about ten minutes later, you heard footsteps. When you did not stand, they stopped. Whoever they were, however, they hadn’t left, because a second after, you heard the distinct sound of someone sitting down next to you.

“What the hell was that?”

You groaned audibly into your arms. The _last_ person you wanted to talk to at the moment was Ellie. Well, no, probably Joel. After that little scene, he was going to have something to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. Ellie was definitely up there, though.

“Seriously. What the hell?”

“Fuck off,” you said without lifting your head.

“No,” she answered. “You just took off without a word. Remember what I said about first impressions?”

“Shut up.”

“Yours sucked. What the fuck is your _deal_ , [Name]?”

“None of your goddamn business!” you snapped as you at last looked up at her. Ellie scowled and rose to her feet. “Where’s Joel?”

“Watching the class,” said Ellie. “They can’t be out here unguarded. And only Mitchell and Alice know how to use a knife. Well, come on.”

“What?”

“Well, come on,” she repeated. “You can’t stay out here. You’re going to get eaten.”

“No, I won’t! I can fucking take care of myself, okay? I did it before. I’ll learn to do it again! Just because I can’t–I can’t handle _children_ doesn’t mean I’m a moron!”

“I never said it did. I just said you couldn’t stay out here. Anyway, what’s so damn wrong with teaching? It’s not like it’s a hard job. You don’t even have to do the physical work.”

“It has nothing to do with that!”

“Then what _does_ it have to do with?”

You only glowered at the ground. It really wasn’t any of Ellie’s business, and you didn’t plan to explain anything to her. The fact of the matter was that you didn’t interact with kids, not even the last time you’d tried your hand at settling down–and that time had been willingly. Of course, to add salt to the wound, at your last settlement, you’d also had two arms. Even if you refused to interact with the children, you were the best damn hunter of the bunch. David wasn’t going to kick you out so long as you brought back meat and didn’t try to kill anyone in your party. Jackson had no such qualms, and you had more of your own this time around.

“Whatever,” Ellie said, breaking quite rudely into your reminiscing. “You’re really fucking difficult, you know that, right?”

“I told you,” you said, quietly for once. “I _told_ you all that I didn’t want to teach. There’s no point.”

“There’s _always_ a point,” said Ellie. When your eyes found her in the shadows of the trees, she was looking away from you. Without bothering to see if you were following, she headed back in the direction of the settlement.

“I don’t want to go back there. Not with those–”

“You don’t have to teach,” she stopped to tell you.

“But what about my job? I really–” Suddenly, the tears you never cried were stuck in your throat. Your eyes felt too clogged with years of dust and dirt and gunpowder to let them out. You wrapped your good arm around your chest in the hopes that that would somehow stop your torrent of emotions. If you cried in front of fucking Ellie, you’d never live it down. You took a great, shuddering breath before continuing, “I really _can’t_ be a teacher.”

She regarded you with no expression, for how long you couldn’t say. Slowly, your fear subsided, leaving you as dry as ever. That was when Ellie cocked her head to one side, straightened her neck, and then came up and latched her hand around yours.

“You’re such a baby,” Ellie announced as she led you through the woods. “Look, I’ll handle it.”

“But–”

“I said I’ll fucking handle it. We’ll figure out something else you can do. Something without a whole lot of people to upset, okay? You don’t have to teach. You just need to be present, okay?”

“Fine.”

Just then, the trees came to an end and you and Ellie met the slope down to Jackson. You tore your hand free of hers before anyone could notice, but Ellie ignored this, intent only on returning to the rest of the group.

“What was that about?” the oldest girl demanded as you and Ellie entered. Joel frowned at you, but you allowed your gaze to slip past him as you took a stationary position a few feet away. In answer to the girl’s question, Ellie only shook her head.

“Nothing. Something stupid. Change of plans, all right?” No one argued. Within a matter of minutes, Ellie had dumped a torn book and her knife out of her backpack and started to teach the other kids how to best maintain blades. The children crowded around, but Joel maintained his distance, without looking at you, without speaking to you. It was funny, because in that moment, you almost wished he would break his rule, even just to tell you off.


	8. Survival Rule #8: The locals are always a little stupid. Try not to contract that.

Not very many days passed after that before Tommy called you–again–to the room he called all the troublemakers to. When you arrived, he wasn’t there yet. Only his beat-up desk and a couple of chairs that had clearly seen better days sat in the dim sunbeams shooting through the curtained window. One of the men that had brought you there shut the door behind you, but you didn’t relax. Doubtless he was still out there, standing guard to make sure you didn’t leave.

You didn’t bother to try. Instead, you walked a small circuit around the chairs and desk; your worn boots hardly made any noise against the dusty carpet. Tommy probably could have used a better place for doling out discipline, but it was a hard line to walk, being in charge of something democratic like Jackson was supposed to be. Probably the only reason he and Maria kept their seats was because, outside of assigning tasks and keeping an eye on ruffians like you, they did the same jobs as everyone else, in the same way as everyone else. Sometimes they even forwent meals when supplies got low, so other members of the community could eat.

The knob on the door across the way twisted, and you leaped away from the desk as though it had shot up sparks. Whatever paperwork was there, it was none of your business, and you didn’t want Tommy thinking you thought it was. Fortunately (or unfortunately), it was not Tommy that stepped into the office, but Joel.

His brown eyes narrowed as he spotted you standing there. Watching him, you were pretty sure he mouthed some four-letter-word upon finding you, but whatever concerns he had, Joel did not voice them to you. After a moment of awkward standing, you hastily took the stuffed green seat nearby and tried to ignore him.

Still Tommy did not show up. Though you weren’t nervous exactly, being left alone with Joel certainly wasn’t comfortable, a feeling that only intensified when you heard him start to make his way toward you. A second later, and Joel collapsed into the chair next to yours.

A bead of sweat rolled from your temple and dripped off your jaw onto your hand. No air conditioner ran through the room. You also felt as though you’d been called to the principal’s office; somehow, that thought made you feel worse. You twisted in your seat to look at Joel.

“What’re you in for?” you asked, perhaps hoping to alleviate some of the pressure in the room. His eyes darted toward you again, then away; the only answer you received was a shifting of his arms.

If there’d been a clock, you’d have been able to count off the seconds, minutes, perhaps even hours that it took Tommy to get there. As it was, when the door behind you opened a second time, the light streaming into the room hadn’t change one iota. Both you and Joel twisted around to see Tommy walking inside; he smiled when he saw the two of you.

“Good,” said Tommy. “You’re both here. Won’t have to wait to get things started.”

Joel got to his feet before Tommy even made it to the chair behind the desk. “Tommy, now what is all this about?” he demanded. “I was in the middle of something and then Larry just up and escorts me, gun drawn.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Tommy sat down and motioned for Joel to do the same. He did, but only reluctantly. “Larry can get a little trigger-happy.”

“If this is because you think I’m trying to take over–”

“I don’t,” Tommy cut in firmly. “You’ve been behaving yourself since we had that little discussion, and I appreciate that.”

Joel watched Tommy. You thought he might have been looking for any traces of lying, but you couldn’t spot any, and the next second, Joel was nodding, although he still looked displeased. “Then what is this all about?”

Tommy did not look as though he wanted to get into things so quickly. Unfortunately for him, he’d been the one to point out no one present had to wait. You pursed your lips as you watched him fidget with one of the busted pens on the desk. After a minute or so of stalling, he tossed it away and folded his fingers in front of his face.

“I have a…proposition for you,” he said. “Well, mostly for Joel.”

Joel rolled his shoulders and tossed you an appraising look. “Then what’s _she_ doing here?”

“Yeah, because I just decided to eavesdrop in plain sight, asshole,” you said angrily. Tommy rolled his eyes. Joel shifted so that he could look more properly at you.

“Could’ve just walked in. ‘S not like Tommy is going to kick you out.”

“I’d kick her out if I didn’t want her to hear what I have to say,” Tommy sighed. “Don’t make me take back my appreciation from earlier. She was invited, same as you.”

“With more guns drawn for motivation, thanks a lot.” You crossed your arm and stump over your chest and lifted your chin as you gazed at Joel.

Tommy did not even have the grace to look ashamed of himself. “You try killing a woman in the kitchen, I’ve got to take security measures. Besides, Ellie is busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing _your_ job.”

That was enough to silence you. You didn’t blush and you didn’t look away from Tommy, but you decided not to respond. Then it was Joel’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Is that what this is about?”

“In a matter of speaking. The proposition I’ve got for you concerns [Name]. I don’t want to be offering anything she doesn’t want. She’s at least got some say in the decision.”

“You’re really too nice to have this job, Tommy.”

“Is that a threat?” Tommy asked, but without any heat. The two brothers smiled at each other in such a fashion that you half-believed Joel was going to start giving Tommy noogies across his desk. Even without that display of brotherly affection, you felt a roll of nausea in your stomach. Soon, however, they were back to being professional. “About the fungus detectors…”

“What about ‘em?” Joel wanted to know. He, too, crossed his arms over his chest. “Thought everybody decided they were unnecessary.”

That much, you were aware of. Even having been banned from speaking or voting at the meeting held two days after your “welcome” to Jackson, people talked. Well, Ellie talked. You couldn’t really tell what she thought about the affair, but she certainly hadn’t shut up about it. As you watched, Tommy drew one hand down his face. “They don’t always know what’s best for ‘em.”

One of Joel’s large hands lifted to his ear. “What’s that? Don’t think I caught that admission of being wrong.”

“As if you’re one to talk,” Tommy grumped, but then he sighed a second time and slumped in his hard wooden seat. “Look, you and [Name] were right, and so was Charles–not that I regret kicking the bastard out, after what he said ‘bout Maria and Ellie.”

Joel snorted his approval. This seemed to give Tommy heart. The most you could do was sullenly sit there, thinking longingly of dinner. You hated being out of the loop, but Joel was in close enough proximity that you didn’t want to rock the boat. More black eyes were not what the doctor ordered.

“Anyway,” said Tommy. “We need some. At least two.”

“That’s no small order.”

“You and Ellie are the best scavengers we’ve got–”

Tommy broke away to look at you. Your sound of scorn must have been louder than you’d planned to make it, because his lips pressed down in that strange way they had on the rare occasions that Tommy deigned to show his aggravation.

“Problem, [Name]?”

“Not for me, exactly,” you said with a smirk. Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “You do realize the only places you’re going to get those are Quarantine Zones? If that. They’ll have been looted, too. You can’t expect an old man and his daughter to slaughter enough hunters to chance upon a scanner.”

“Joel?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. Ellie did a good job clearing out that camp of cannibals on her own last winter without my help.” Your fingers whitened around your upper arm; it took all your will power to maintain your composure. _Ellie_ killed them? _Ellie_ took down David? _Ellie_ sent the rest of your old camp scattering through the forests? “With my help,” Joel finished, “I’d say we could.”

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch,” you said, hoping the slight tremor in your voice would go unnoticed. As far as you could tell, it had. “Even if you do happen upon one, it’ll probably be dead. Where are you going to find the batteries?”

“We’ve probably got a box stashed somewhere in storage, provided it hasn't been looted,” said Tommy. “I’d rather not go the route of slaughter, though. Could you and Ellie get into a Quarantine Zone?”

“Maybe,” Joel said, though his tensed shoulders said the idea didn’t please him. “There’ll be some group that’s holed up in there, though. If it’s like Pittsburgh again–”

“Cut and run. You have my permission.”

“And the scanners?”

“We’ll figure out a way to keep them away from Ellie.”

After another long pause, Joel nodded and fingered the strap on his bag. Like always, all his weaponry was crammed in it, or at least what you assumed was all his weaponry. You’d never seen him with less. Before Joel could stand, however, he paused.

“What’s this got to do with her?”

A part of you wanted to snap at him that _her_ had a name. Then it occurred to you that you didn’t give a damn what Joel called you one way or the other. Sometimes you forgot that you were supposed to hate his guts, but never for long. You pulled a face at him until Tommy said:

“Could you still get into a Quarantine Zone with [Name]?”

The sudden tension in the air seemed as cold and brittle as ice. You sucked in a breath and then both you and Joel burst out “What?” at the exact same time. The look he threw you was enough to indicate he did not believe you capable of asking such a fucking stupid question. He had no time to say so, however, before his brother continued:

“I think it would be good for you to get out, [Name].”

“Like, out out?” As much as you whined and moaned and complained about being in Jackson, being dumped out in the middle of nowhere wasn’t exactly the best plan either. Your heart beat grew wilder as you thought of all the things that could happen to a one-armed fuck up in the middle of a forest those days.

“Like, out out?” Joel echoed. He sounded much more satisfied with the idea. Your fear broke apart on your anger.

“Fuck you!”

“Pick a night,” he snarled.

“I wouldn’t do you if you paid me and money was still worth something!”

“You’re not even worth the paper it’s printed on!”

“Shut up!” Tommy shouted. Startled by his sudden frustration, you fell silent. “Both of you,” he added to Joel. The latter pressed his mouth shut as tightly as he could, but he continued to glare in your direction. Your chest rose and fell rapidly with the combination of anxiety and temper rushing through your veins. Joel inhaled sharply.

“If you expect me to go out there to get you those scanners,” he said in a voice as quiet as the grave, “then you’re expecting me to do something more dangerous than usual. Now you want me to add _her_ to the list of threats? Do you want Ellie to die, Tommy?”

“No,” Tommy said, just as calmly as if nothing had ever happened. “I think Ellie can handle it.”

“She put you up to this, didn’t she?”

“If you mean it was entirely her idea to begin with.”

The look Joel shot Tommy would have boiled a lesser man. “The answer is no, Tommy. And I’ll tell Ellie that myself.”

“What do you think, [Name]?” Tommy asked you. “You’ve already proven that you can’t handle any of the other jobs we give you. Wandering is in your blood, seems like, and fighting. Now, I know you and Joel don’t get along, but you seem to do fine with Ellie, and she’s willing to look after you, get you settled into working with your arm the way it is.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Joel demanded.

“Not really,” Tommy answered mildly. “‘Course, you can tell Ellie no, but I can’t imagine that’ll slow her down none. She’ll just get her way through different means, and they might not be means you like.”

“You ain’t her father.”

“Are you finally claiming that you are?”

Joel said nothing.

“Look, Joel, I’ve thought this through. I know that [Name] won’t exactly help, at least not at first. But that’s exactly why you need her. The vote to get these damn things didn’t go through. If I announce that we’re doing it anyway, we’re going to have a riot on our hands."

“And why should I care?” asked Joel.

“Because Ellie might get hurt.”

“Wait,” you said. “You’re taking me because no one would think that I’d get to go on any mission this dangerous? I’m a fucking _distraction_?"

“The locals are always a little stupid. Try not to catch that,” Joel said, as an aside to you that had you snorting. Tommy lifted his eyes toward the ceiling, but not without the ends of his lips curling almost imperceptibly upward as well.

“I’m not sayin’ you two have to get along. I’m just asking for your cooperation. That’s all.”

“And if I shoot her?”

“Ellie’ll tell me. Hell, she might even disown you.”

“Over [Name]?”

“You know how Ellie gets with her little projects.”

“Now I’m a project,” you said with an edge of annoyance on your voice. “Fantastic.”

“Hey, it’s more than you’ve been anywhere else,” Joel said, then looked back at Tommy. “Fine. We’ll try. But if I don’t think we’re going to make it, I’m dumping her ass back here, no questions asked, and,” Joel twisted toward you, “you put Ellie in any danger, any danger at all, you’re a dead woman.”

In answer, Tommy gestured at the space between you and Joel’s chairs. “Shake on it,” he said.

Hesitantly, you lifted your good arm. Joel took it; Tommy beamed. You could offer no such positivity or cheer. In Joel’s fingers was a strength that told you if you fucked up–if you only _thought_ about fucking up–you’d be dead…and it wouldn’t be a pleasant death, either.


	9. Survival Rule #9: If you fall off a roof, don't let go. No one will catch you.

Even with Joel’s threat lingering in your brain, scavenging with him and Ellie turned out to be the best thing that had happened to you since you’d cut off your arm. It wasn’t easy, the long hikes or the late night watches or hiding when groups of runners turned up, but it felt good to be doing something–even if “something” didn’t amount to much more than lookout duty while Ellie and Joel plundered a neighborhood.

When things stayed quiet for a decent amount of time, Ellie insisted on teaching you: aiming, cutting, climbing, you name it. It was beyond irritating being taught (or re-taught) by a teenager, but if Joel had had his way, you would have been stuck doing nothing from ten feet away the entire trip. You were more than happy to go along with Ellie’s plans, so long as it kept you busy and annoyed her friend.

On the fifth day of the trip, you were “rewarded.” When Joel and Ellie went into a house to gather supplies, you got to come inside with them, instead of being posted to the porch. For the past two hours, the tiny town with the welcome sign too weathered to read had been empty of infected. 

Joel ignored you as he went through the cabinets in the laundry room. You stayed in the kitchen, inhaling the familiar sent of wood decay, mold, and dust. Judging by the state of things in the house, either looters had already come through, or the family inside had been lucky enough to get rounded up for a QZ, for a broad definition of "luck." _You_ wouldn’t call it that, but the idea had you reluctant to look through things. Sure, Joel had found an empty beer bottle, but likely anything else of use had been taken years ago, by a party less experienced and more optimistic than yours.

“Hey,” Ellie said from the living room. You could see her beyond the couch from your position. “Get moving.”

You groaned loud enough that even Joel could hear, but neither he nor Ellie remarked. All the work of the past few days had your muscles aching, and they’d softened up enough before your excursion to ensure the ache wasn’t pleasant. Your arm throbbed as you lifted it to start opening the cabinets above the stove. Even the plates were gone. A few dead spiders fell from the shelves onto your chest; you brushed them away before moving on.

What food there was was way past due. You couldn’t recognize the green-brown lumps in the warm refrigerator, and you didn’t even bother trying with the blackened pitchers. Bending down to check a few lower cabinets, you could not help but feel rankled at your lack of success. Joel’s constant reminders that your pack was nearly empty were grating even when you couldn’t help it. You stuck your head into the dark space left by the open door. In the dim lighting coming from the windows, you could see the crumpled shapes of deceased bugs, and maybe something else. You wriggled out, then immediately stuck your hand back in; it found a plastic bag.

It wouldn’t be anything more than proof you’d tried, you knew that much, but that was enough to get you to pull whatever it was out. The plastic rasped across the grain of the shelf until the bag left the cabinet and you could get a better look at it. What you saw nearly made your road trip even more worth it.

“No _fucking_ way!” you squealed, and even gave a tiny hop of excitement.

“What?” Ellie demanded from the living room. In that moment, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to get frustrated with her. You grinned as you held up your find, then gave the bag a tiny shake.

“Coffee!”

“Hey.” She smiled in return. “Can you still use it? We don’t have a machine at Jackson.”

“You don’t need a coffee machine to make coffee, jackass,” you said as you hugged the container of instant coffee to your chest. The next moment, you swung your backpack off and onto the floor so that you could pack the stuff. “Just hot water.”

“If you say so,” Ellie said. She didn’t sound convinced, but she’d already turned her attention to a bookshelf near the television and was fingering a few of the worn spines.

“I do say so. What, did you think that coffee was fucking magic?”

“You keep implying I’m a moron and I _will_ have Joel take your ass home,” she muttered. If you’d been watching, you probably would have seen her eyes roll. As it was, you were too busy trying to unzip your pack without having an extra arm to press the unaligned bits of the zipper back into place.

“We ain’t taking any coffee,” Joel said, announcing his return from the laundry room. You ignored him; Joel wanted you to leave anything _you_ wanted behind, and that was just damn tough luck for him that time around. You hadn’t tasted coffee since you’d been moved to the Northern California Quarantine Zone back when the whole mess started. Sure, the stuff was probably old enough to make you sick, but you didn’t have any fucks to give.

“Oh, come on, Joel,” Ellie said. “You like coffee. Or liked coffee, I guess.”

“Is that so?” At last you straightened, your treasure now safely ensconced within an inner pocket. “Maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll share.”

“Put it back,” was all he said before returning his attention to Ellie. “Ellie, what are you doing?”

She paused just a little too long. “Scavenging.”

“In the bookshelf?” Joel asked. “What are you going to find in a damn bookshelf?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged without looking at him. “Deed to the house?”

“Move on, baby girl. You two are slower ‘n molasses. There’s still another whole story to this house.”

“I’ll be there in two seconds,” she said, then met his eyes to add, “promise.”

Joel threw a look at you, perhaps to gauge how safe it was to leave her downstairs with you. Seeing as how she had her gun _and_ yours and all you had was Ellie’s knife, it was pretty safe. He appeared to reach the same conclusion, and must not have felt like being responsible for you that afternoon, since he trundled up the stairs not even a minute later. Ellie didn’t react; she was too focused on the books. You moved to look as well just in time to see her pull a particularly thick volume from the middle shelf. She flipped through several thin pages of diagrams of skeletal and muscular anatomy.

“Must’ve been a doctor,” she muttered to herself.

“What’s that matter?”

She didn’t answer. Ellie only swung her own pack down to stuff the book inside. Larger than a brick and heavier no doubt, you didn’t think that was a good plan unless she planned to beat a clicker in the head with it. When she looked up to see you watching, Ellie held a finger up to her lips.

"I won’t tell him you took the coffee if you won’t tell him I took the book.”

“Deal,” you said immediately. You wanted that coffee, and if forming an alliance with Ellie was the only way to meet that goal, you’d take it, no questions asked. She regarded you with the corners of her mouth pressed down for a long moment, then nodded once, swung her bag back onto her back, and started up the stairs. You followed.

The second story was much brighter than the first, though no less worn down. The wallpaper peeled in multiple places, exposing off-white walls beneath that beads of moisture clung to. The hallway led to an open room that must have served as the house’s game room Before. As Ellie broke away into the bathroom, you wandered inside to look at the broken foosball table and the dark pinball machine. You pulled at its trigger halfheartedly. Even if Jackson had enough electricity to make it a proper city, things like this would only be a drain on resources.

Without having much hope of finding anything as good as the instant coffee from earlier, you crawled beneath the table, fingers running across the dirty floor. Several muddy footprints had dried onto the wood months ago, but they were the only sign that anyone else had visited that room. Before you could get clumsily to your feet, however, something downstairs clicked. Then another something, then another, and then from outside. Quickly, you drew your legs in and huddled into a ball. If you were quiet, if you just didn’t make any noise, then they wouldn’t be able to find you. It wasn’t the first time you’d run into infected on this particular expedition. All you could do was wait for Joel and Ellie to take them out silently–or rather, just Joel. He didn’t seem to like letting Ellie too close to them.

You heard footsteps, which probably meant the clickers did, too. With a shuddering gasp, you drew into yourself more tightly. Two different sets of feet hit the floor of your room, and then the door closed quietly.

“Get up,” Joel said, anger evident in his voice even when it was that quiet. You knew that it was more his survival instinct acting up; all you were was a liability, but you weren’t doing anything against the rules at that moment. Still, you didn’t want to be clicker food, so you got up and crept over to where Ellie and Joel stood by the window. “See?” he whispered to Ellie. “If you’d left her a lookout like I said–”

“You and I never used a lookout anyway,” she whispered heatedly back. The two of them fought the most when danger was around, but more than anything, it seemed like a coping mechanism. Afterward, you knew Ellie and Joel would laugh, and he would give her pointers as to what to do better next time, and she'd be grateful. For the time being, however, they had to duke it out over what was to be done.

“They weren’t around when we got here,” you put in. Joel rolled his eyes; he hated it when you did that.

“You think clickers are fucking magic?” he asked. “They just _appear_ while we’re asleep? They migrate, same us. Now, Ellie, you stay up here with [Name] and–”

“No,” Ellie said stubbornly. “They’re inside _and_ out. You can’t clear them out on your own.”

“Clickers aren’t very good at opening doors,” you pointed out. “We could just stay here until they 'migrate' again.”

“No,” Ellie said again. “That’ll take too long. Look, we’ve got a window. We can exit that way.”

Joel must have seen the direction that her plan was going, because he shook his head and scowled. “We are not trying to get through them. Your friend here makes more noise than a bull in a china shop.”

“I don’t even know what means. Sounds fucking stupid, though,” Ellie said. Her fingers wrapped around the window ledge and then she pushed up. The window moved upward only an inch and it screeched all the while. Ellie froze; Joel opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly sarcastic, but she silenced him with a glare. Something like five minutes later, and the window was open, Ellie having opened it in stages as quietly as she could. Without waiting for either you or Joel, she stuck a leg outside and crawled onto the roof.

That was enough to convince Joel. He might not have liked Ellie’s plan, but there was no way he was going to let her go through with it on her own. You looked around the relative safety of the game room, but knew you had to follow. If any infected got inside, you were fucked six ways to Sunday. Ellie still had your gun, since you hadn’t managed to hit anything but trees during target practice–the wrong trees.

When you stepped outside, your boots slipped against the slick wood singles. The afternoon’s rain had left everything wet, and you had to grip the windowsill so hard that it hurt to keep yourself from flailing to the ground. Neither Joel nor Ellie noticed; they were too busy arguing about where to go from there. Their voices were entirely hushed, and with good reason. Straightening, you saw five clickers jittering around the base of the house.

“Ellie, I am _not_ letting you go down there by yourself. End of discussion.”

“No, it damn well isn’t,” she said. “I don’t have any long range weapons, Joel! My handgun and [Name]’s pistol. That’s it. If I stay up here, I won’t be of any fucking use!”

“You don’t need to be of any use. You aren’t going down there while I stay up here.”

“I’ve been getting better at strangling them, you can’t deny that. _And_ you’re better with the bow and arrow. You stay up here and snipe ‘em; I’ll clear out the ones inside. We’ll be able to leave without detection, no shots fired.”

It was a decent plan, even you recognized that. So long as Ellie could actually do what she said, at any rate. If she was to cover Joel’s back with guns, the entire swarm would be upon whoever was on the ground in matter of seconds. Joel must have thought so, too, because he hesitated, and then nodded. Ellie did not have to be told twice; she swung herself onto the gutter.

“If you get in trouble, fire two shots.”

She held up a single thumb, and then dropped lightly to the ground. The mud beneath her splashed and she stiffened, but the nearest clicker did not twitch in her direction. Ellie stood, flashed Joel another thumbs up, and then, crouching, started to move.

Before she had gone very far, Joel threw himself onto the shingles with his bow in his hand. You felt a flash of envy as you watched him dock an arrow. You’d never been fortunate enough to stumble upon a bow yourself, though you’d found a few arrows during your wanderings. They were one hit kills, if the archer was good enough, and they could take out a clicker at a distance with absolutely no noise. Now, even if you wanted to learn to use a bow, even if Joel would lend you his (which you seriously doubted), it wouldn’t be of any use. Bows were two-handed weapons, like every other fucking thing you wanted to use.

A quiet whip filled the air, and one of the distant clickers fell. It jerked a few times, then stopped entirely. Ellie, at that moment, jumped onto a clicker near her. Unfortunately, she was not as lucky. It began to lurch, whacking her across the face with its dirty hands. Ellie fell and crawled backwards with the clicker in hot pursuit. Joel swore and readjusted his aim, but both Ellie and the clicker were moving too quickly. He fired; the arrow whizzed past and buried itself into the oak tree in the yard.

You had her knife, you realized, with your heart beating wildly in your chest. The rest of the clickers had heard the mad cry of their fellow and started to rush toward Ellie along themselves. Joel grabbed another arrow. All you could do was watch and try not to scream.

_You have her knife!_ the remaining reasonable part of your brain cried. You had her knife, and Ellie had saved your life more goddamn times than you wanted to count. Now on her feet, she was nearly to where you were. You threw yourself down beside Joel with the knife in your free hand.

“Ellie!” you shouted. There was no need to remain quiet anymore, not with the entire pack gaining on her. With another curse, this worse than the last, Joel threw himself down onto the yard as well. Immediately, two others beset him, and Joel disappeared in whirlwind of rotting limbs. Several gunshots fired. Ellie looked up at that. “Ellie!”

She heard you that time, and turned her head toward you. You wished she hadn’t. In her moment of distraction, the clicker got her, wrapped its fingers around her windpipe. Still her palm opened, asking for the knife. You couldn’t reach. You inched closer, rising slightly from the roof–and slipped.

You twisted at just the right moment, and caught yourself with your free hand. The edge of the gutter cut even harder into your flesh then the windowsill, and the knife went falling to the ground, where it disappeared into the uncut grass.

Your back was to the fight. You couldn’t see, only hear Ellie’s splutters as she gasped for air, and the sound of Joel trying to break free of his set of attackers. There was no one to lift you up. You tried to do it yourself, but one arm wasn’t enough.

“Help!” you shouted, hoping Joel would hear you and grab you after he got Ellie.

“If you fall off a roof,” Joel shouted in answer. “don't let go. No one’s gonna catch you!”

He _was_ a little busy, but that didn’t stop you feeling annoyed and scared. Your fingers started to slip. “No. No, no–shit!”

You plummeted toward the ground, back first. Your eyes screwed shut. You’d fallen farther before, but those had been planned drops. The sound of Ellie choking got closer and closer until–crack. The body beneath you continued to spasm for several minutes, while you panted, and Ellie above you massaged her windpipe.

“Thanks,” she said hoarsely.

“Don’t let it happen again,” you replied.

A few minutes later, and it was over. The clicking stopped. Joel appeared to hand Ellie her retrieved knife. Then you were on your way, like nothing had happened at all.


	10. Survival Rule #10: It bears repeating: The enemy can hear you, so shut up.

Even when things were going terribly, somehow watches still gave you some comfort. Your eyes itched with fatigue and your muscles twitched in protest, but those were small prices to pay. You liked the dark and the quiet of early morning watches. What was more, you liked being in charge. In this world, you couldn’t trust anyone but yourself.

That was not to say that it wasn’t boring. You’d drawn second watch, and the only sound in the dilapidated room was Ellie’s quiet breathing. She’d woken you up two hours ago, just as Joel was leaving, to do what, he had not bothered to explain to you. Probably to see if he could find a way out of the Quarantine Zone. Four days stuck in that dingy apartment building, with, sure enough, a box full of infection scanners, but with a dwindling food supply and nearly no water.

You stretched in an attempt to get rid of the growing pain in your ass. Sitting all day long, trying not to move or make noise even as the temperature dropped toward freezing, wasn’t much of a holiday in your book. Your adjustment did nothing but move your legs enough to stir the three Molotov cocktails sitting around your feet. Joel had stopped long enough to give you directions: if anyone came, you were to lob these at the doorway and get out with Ellie through the nearby emergency exit. Not exactly a shining tribute to his faith in your abilities, but it _was_ actually the first time he’d willingly left you alone with her–though you chalked that up more to desperation than to any burgeoning trust in your relationship.

With a stifled sigh, you shifted enough to look at Ellie. Even in the darkness, you could see the marks of the clicker’s fingers on her neck. In the daylight, the bruises bloomed purple-yellow across her skin. Sometimes you caught Joel staring at them, somehow intent and soft at the same time, like he wanted to take them on himself and leave her without blemish. After the roof incident, Joel hadn’t spoken for a very long time, not until Ellie and he went off somewhere to have a private discussion.

He really was desperate, you thought, but for Ellie, not for himself. It was a weird thing to notice, and a weirder thing to _be_ in the earthly hell humanity now inhabited. Especially weird was the fact that Ellie didn’t seem desperate at all herself. Even as the days whiled away with no chances of escape, she remained as glib as ever. Ellie always controlled situations; the situations never controlled her. Even at fifteen, she just sort of exuded the feeling that she knew what she was doing. You wondered if you’d looked that impressive back when this all started: only two years older, but, no, entirely out of your mind with fear. Out of your mind for four long years, only to come out sane enough to die.

You turned away before you could think more good thoughts about her. The last thing you needed was another tag-along kid to break your heart over. But even as you thought that, you relaxed a bit in the darkness and flipped back around. _This_ was familiar, staying up in a dark room, with your stomach cramping with hunger and your brain wild with responsibility and fear. It was as though you had been transported to those first eight months after you’d escaped the Northern California QZ. There you were, thrust again into a realm you had no training for, but that you had to stand up against for the sake of a child.

Your eyes settled briefly on the bandages wrapped around her arm. Ellie never took them off, and you’d known her long enough that you wondered why. Most of the time, Ellie acted like they didn’t exist–unless she was looking at the infection scanners. Then her fingers would contract around the area as though she couldn’t keep them from doing so.

Shit, you were getting sentimental. Where the fuck was Joel? In a sudden fit of impatience, you twisted upward to peer out the window. Nothing outside moved. At least you could be confident that Joel wouldn’t leave without Ellie–but that didn’t mean the gang in the Zone hadn’t got ahold of him.

You felt cold fear flash across your skin as you hastily sank back down onto the dirty floor. If that was the case, what could you do? Joel doing the job instead was something you preferred. Though you couldn’t be certain, you thought you might have recognized a few of the shouts during that firefight.

If that was the case, and Joel really had got himself in trouble–

No. That couldn’t happen. If anyone could elude those guys, it was Joel. After all, he and Ellie slaughtered the entire camp almost a year ago, hadn’t they?

And why the fuck should you care anyway? If Joel got himself eaten, or even just staked outside the doors to serve as a warning, that could only benefit you. Ellie was still green enough that you could probably get away from her. In fact, if Joel died, you’d stake your instant coffee on Ellie not being able to function when she found out. You could definitely get away in that scenario.

_"Patience is a virtue."_ Your dad had said that like it was going out of style. War, he told you time and time again, was spent mostly in waiting. The stretches where nothing happened were the worst, and if you wanted to keep your head, you learned how to stay calm during them.

It was a lesson you’d never managed to learn.

Sunrise would be several hours more in coming. You swiped your legs underneath you to make yourself more comfortable; in the process, you knocked over one of the cocktail bottles. With a whispered expletive, you lurched forward to steady it–with your missing arm. It clattered onto the hard floor, and you stiffened instantly. They hadn’t found you yet, and you felt almost foolish.

That was when you saw the lights.

“Hey, man, I think I heard something up here.”

“Probably the fucking rats. This place hasn’t been used in a shit-ton of years.”

“Yeah, and we don’t know where that fucker and his girl went. Wouldn’t this be a good place to hide?”

“I don’t fucking know, dude. I just want to finish this and go to bed.”

“It’ll only take two minutes to check. You want me to tell the boss you let these guys go?”

“You want her to flay me alive? Man, I thought we were closer than that.”

“Ain’t got time for closeness in this world. Let’s go.”

Shit. Ellie was still asleep, and directly in front of the first door. Only a few torn pieces of furniture remained in your room, and none that you felt safe enough to hide behind. The lights down the hallway danced across the window behind you. Your hand wrapped around the neck of one of the bottles even as you tried to decide whether or not to wake Ellie.

You decided not to just as two men, one stocky, one with a dark shadow of hair on his chin, appeared in the doorway. After all, she probably couldn't sleep through a fight. The two men only had time to spot the slumbering girl on the floor before you launched the glass bottle with all your might toward them. Even as weak as you were, the distance was not so great that it didn’t reach. Flames burst upward, licking the wooden door frame. Unfortunately, it hit neither of the men.

“We got ‘em!” shouted the nearest. The fire made his features dance wickedly. You held your breath as you stared. The fire wouldn’t last forever, and you only had two more cocktails. They were ready for the next one, though. “Go tell the boys. I’ll hold them here!”

The second man didn’t even bother to respond. He disappeared back down the hall. The remaining person grinned widely at you and switched his flashlight off.

“You ladies are fucking fucked.”

“ _You’re_ fucking fucked,” you snarled. Fear clouded your ability to come up with anything cleverer. The fire by his feet began to die down. He noticed this as well, and in the moment it took him to take a step, you tossed the second bottle.

It struck him dead on in the chest. Maybe he had been too busy smirking to swat it away; maybe you really had caught him off-guard. Whatever the reason, the result remained the same: the man burst into flames. He screamed, beating wildly at the fire, but it had already caught onto his hair.

Now was the time to move–now, before reinforcements were brought. Where you were going, you had no idea. How Joel would find you was equally a mystery. All you knew was that you had to get out, preferably with Ellie in tow. You turned toward her, intending to wake her up, only to see her already standing with the box of scanners in her arms.

“Let’s go.”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. You did not even pause to scoop up your last cocktail, and took off toward the adjoining hallway. God, you hoped it didn’t come down to a fucking fight. After the incident with the roof, Ellie now had both guns _and_ her knife. You, on the other hand, had absolutely nothing.

The hallway had no windows, and was so dark that you could hardly see Ellie as she raced ahead of you. You hoped to whatever fucking deity had fucked things up so badly that there really was an exit somewhere at the end, without a hoard of gang members outside.

You crashed through the door and found only another wide lobby. You shouldn’t have been surprised; the military changed the architecture of buildings at zone boarders so much that everything got topsy-fucking-turvy trying to keep everyone from leaving. Even if this had been your QZ, you wouldn’t have been able to find your way out. The first time you’d left had been the _only_ time you left.

Ellie distracted you by throttling a nearby china cabinet until it stood in front of the door you had just exited. Without another word, she hurried over to bar area and shoved the box of loot behind it. When she surfaced, she was taking the safety off her gun.

“What are you doing?” you asked as she rushed off toward another hallway.

“Finding Joel,” she stopped long enough to tell you.

“What? But–”

“You killed the one guy that knew there was another door there, right?”

“Probably but–”

“I’ve got to go. Before they come back.”

“Ellie, Joel wouldn’t–”

“Do you think I fucking care?” You fell silent, heart thundering in your ears. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Look,” you said in what you hoped was a soothing tone, “he’ll be able to find us if we stay put. If you go running around, you’re likely to get yourself killed, and you’ll miss him.”

“Just because _you_ can’t handle being on your own out there doesn’t mean that _I_ can’t. I’ve got both arms and I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, not everything is? What a fucking surprise!”

“We don’t have time for this,” you snapped. You couldn’t tell if you were more angry than scared, or more scared than angry. Ellie just couldn’t _leave_. Someone would kill you if she left you, whether it was Joel or the Zoners. Ellie, however, only quickly shook her head and closed the distance between you.

“You’re right. Here.” She held out your old pistol. You took it without thinking. “Maybe if they show up, the adrenaline will be enough to get your aim straight.” Ellie had made it halfway across the room again before she added, “Remember: they can hear you. You might want to keep your fucking trap shut.”

And she left.

“Ellie!” you shouted after her, but no reply came echoing back to you.

For a moment, you felt blind with panic, capable only of staring numbly at the gun in your hand. Then you heard something slam in the not-quite-distance, in the opposite direction from the one Ellie had vanished in. Before anything else could reach your ears, you dove behind the bar with the scanners.

Your actions were none too soon. Only as you ducked behind the chipped counter, someone began pounding on the door. You held your breath as the shattered remains in the cabinet jittered across the shelves. Once, twice, three times: the cabinet started to grind across the floor.

With an almighty smash, the door finally crashed open wide enough for two more men to shove their way into their room.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” one crooned.

“We heard you calling your little friend. We know you’re in here,” sang the other.

The sound of someone kicking over a long-dead potted plant filled the room. “You killed Jeffery, you little bitch. He was family. Might as well surrender to your fate.”

Before he could finish his sentence, you popped up and let off a single shot. You didn’t stick around to see if it met its mark, but it became pretty clear that it hadn’t when they started to scream at you and fire their own weapons. You lifted again and shot a second time, your hand shaking widely around your gun as you did. After the third round, you must have made a lucky shot. One of them spluttered and choked, and then you heard the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor.

Silence rang, but even then you knew it was temporary. The horrible grinding sound of someone unable to breathe continued quietly, and then whoever was left shrieked.

“Oh, you’re fucking dead now, bitch! You think you can just waltz in here, into _our_ turf, steal _our_ things, kill _our_ men, and get away with it? I don’t fucking think so!”

Your breath was wild in your chest. You lifted momentarily, but when you pulled the trigger, all your gun did was click. It had no more bullets. You had no further way to defend yourself.

He knew. He laughed. And his footsteps echoed against the walls as he walked leisurely toward your hiding space.

“You’re gonna pay, bitch. You and your two friends. Don’t know where that man of yours went, but we’ll find him. That girl won’t even make it of the building. And you? You just made sure none of you are getting an easy death.”

You dropped the gun, too tired to hold it up anymore. At last, your attacker appeared. He had a wide grin full of chipped teeth.

“There you are,” he whispered.

As he advanced, your hands scrabbled through the debris scattered on the dirty floor, like something out of one of your well-worn nightmares. He got closer, kneeled, and that was just when your fingers found a wide beam of wood. Without thinking, you lifted it into the air and swung it hard into his head. Again, you were lucky. Several nails had been hammered into the side and you just happened to have sent them into the man’s skull.

“What the fuck?” he said, and lifted his own pistol. You ripped your weapon out before he could fire, and he dropped. That wasn’t enough. You were alone, and you didn’t want him telling them anything. Again, you lifted the plank and drove it, nails first, into the back of his neck. He continued to twitch, even as you continued to beat him in more and more places. He fell still, but that still wasn’t enough. You knew what torture meant for women, and you’d be damned even more if you let that happen to you one more time.

“Holy _fucking_ shit!”

You looked up. Ellie had returned with Joel in tow. Both of them stared at you, for how long, you couldn’t say. Shaking more violently than you had in days, you looked down to really _see_ the mangled corpse at your feet.

Then you promptly dropped the plank and fell gasping to the floor.


	11. Survival Rule #11: If you get burnt, let someone put ice on it for god's sake.

It took another day and a half to get out of the Quarantine Zone, and another week after that to lose the gang tracking you. By the time Ellie popped a bullet through the last man’s eye, you were well and truly lost. Joel and Ellie might have known how to get back to Jackson, but you didn’t, and they were in no hurry to say. Aching and stinking, you had no choice but to trudge after them, day after day, and watch the sky turn pink, night after night.

The lack of pursuit did add a few benefits to doing so, however. At last your pack, having been emptied by your previous travel buddies, had been filled. A gas mask hung from one strap, and had come in handy just earlier that day. Less importantly, but perhaps better on the added cheer front, you were allowed a fire. Not that Joel was happy about it. Fires meant people, animals, and related things could find you. But snow remained in purple-white piles against the trees from the fall that morning and a hard freeze lingered in the air. Sometimes you had to pick your poison.

Heat didn’t seem like much of an antidote at somewhere around five in the morning anyway. Huddle as you might close to the flames, poke as you did at the tinder with the rusted remains of a coat hanger, you shivered violently underneath your worn coat. You supposed you could have just been grateful one of those hunters had even had a coat your size to steal. Somehow you were not.

It might have been several days since you bashed that man’s head in, but your body hadn’t forgotten. Long gone was the body used to cross-country running for the track team, to carrying a broken ten-year-old for miles every day. The adrenaline drained quickly away and left your remaining arm nearly useless. The day after the attack, you hadn’t been able to move it at all. Even now, you had to concentrate not to grimace simply stirring the instant coffee in your camping pot.

“Shit,” you whispered as the dented spoon slipped from your numb fingers again. For a moment, you didn’t bother to pick it up. Instead, you wrapped what limbs you had left around your torso and scowled up at the sky. You didn’t know what was worse at that point: the phantom pain in your lost arm, or the real pain in the one you still had. The coffee would probably taste like piss anyway, which only served to disappoint you farther. Sure, you’d snapped at Ellie about not needing a machine to make coffee, but fuck if you yourself knew how to do it otherwise. Back in the day, you went to a Starbucks for your caffeine fix. No one ever asked you to do it yourself. Still, even you could figure out that hot water mixed with coffee grounds did not a beverage make.

Another annoyance of the Cordyceps apocalypse: You could no longer tell time, not precisely. The watch you’d taken with you to the California zone had long since died, and before that, it hadn’t taken long for cellphones to become useless. At night in a forest, you couldn’t see the moon. Not that time telling was a particularly important survival skill, but your inability to do so rankled even more in your current condition.

It must have been nearing dawn, though, because you heard something move. You stiffened for only a moment, and then saw Joel sitting up. His face was difficult to read, dark as it was and with your eyes as filled with the light of the fire, but the moving shadow was large. It could not be Ellie, and it didn’t move right to be non-human. The realization did not cause the tension in your shoulders to lessen.

Maybe he sensed that, although for the life of you you couldn’t figure out why the hell your feelings would matter. His walk to the fire was uncharacteristically slow and steady–like he was sneaking up on a clicker, not coming to talk to one of his traveling companions.

When he got close enough for you to see his face, Joel paused. You caught a flash of pink tongue against the corner of his lips before he nodded at your pot of mud-like substance. “Making some coffee?” You blinked. His shoulders lifted and fell. “Smells good.”

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to take it,” you said, keeping your voice as low as Joel did. Ellie was still asleep, and you didn’t need to get him riled up by waking her. Joel shrugged as he sat down across from you. He watched you, for some reason, before looking away.

“You weren’t, but,” he turned back and for a split-second you thought he might have been smiling, “I might not complain as much if you let me have some.”

You snorted as you took up your spoon again. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Worth a shot.” He didn’t appear too bothered, and the next moment he lifted a hand and rubbed his beard. You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your stirring. Burnt coffee was the last thing that you wanted, especially with Joel watching. Unfortunately, your arm still hurt too much to get away with nonchalance. “You want me to do that for you?”

“No,” you said flatly. Why was Joel even talking to you? His watch shift was over, and he was likely to get cranky in the afternoon if he didn’t get his beauty rest. When you briefly looked up at him, you caught him roll his eyes. The next time he moved, you did not hear him until he had wrested the spoon from your fingers and shoved you over. “What the fuck?”

“I’m not gonna take your damn coffee so don’t even start,” he said shortly. You clamped your mouth shut over your stillborn protest. If you’d blurted it out, Joel might have spilled the water out, leaving you without coffee or fire. It was probably best to just let him do whatever it was he wanted. He was going to anyway.

Sullenly, you rubbed your stump to distract yourself from the silence. That was another thing the not-so-new world had. No more iTunes or internet radio. Just you and the great outdoors, and maybe the occasional tagalong you didn’t even want.

“So why didn’t you keep the plank?”

“Huh?” you asked. Caught off guard, you forgot to try to sound intelligent. Joel was looking right at you; one corner of his mouth crinkled at your confusion.

“That plank you used to kill that guy. Why didn’t you keep it?”

“Why would I keep it?”

“Well, you can’t shoot worth shit so–”

“I shot that other guy in the head!”

“Lucky shot. You deny it?” As usual, Joel saw straight through you. God, but that pissed you off, enough that you looked back down at your shoes to avoid seeing him look smug. “I’m just saying, you can’t shoot ‘em, may as well beat ‘em. Make you less useless at least.”

“I still can barely move my arm, asshole,” you snapped. “And somehow that translates as less useless to you?”

“Look, you killed three men that night–”

“Because Ellie took out so many looking for you!”

Joel gazed at you long enough to make you feel awkward. Then he let a long, low breath out of his nose and set the handle of the spoon against the side of the pot. “I’m tryin’ to pay you a compliment here. Ya gotta ruin everything by being pissy?”

“If I’m pissy it’s because of you,” you muttered, but didn’t go farther than that. Even that, though, must have made you look like you were throwing a temper tantrum, because Joel waited a good long while before he asked:

“Ya done?”

“Just finish your fucking compliment.”

“Well, like I was saying,” he said, and there again was that thing that might have been a smile but no way in hell could have been, “you killed three men that night. On your own.”

“And?”

“And?” Joel snorted. “Why’s there gotta be an and? I was just sayin’, I recognize that you did a little better back there. Guess you’re trying. Can I have some coffee now?”

“Why would I give you my coffee after that?” It was getting difficult to keep your voice low enough to let Ellie sleep. Judging by the lightening of the sky through the eastern-most branches, however, she wouldn’t get to stay that way much longer. You knew it would piss off Joel–though it was perfectly clear that Joel didn’t care if he pissed you off. Even as you glowered at him, he just stared at you over the dying fire.

“Ellie said you’d share with me if I was nice.”

“Well, you aren’t fucking nice!” you snarled.

You would admit it: You expected more of a fight after that. Maybe that was why you said it. After so many years of traipsing the countryside trying not to die, you appreciated routine. Arguing with Joel was about as routine as it got those days, and the altercations had been lacking while you fled the Quarantine Zone gang. To your very great surprise, though, Joel doubled over with laughter.

Your mouth popped open; you couldn’t help it. Was he going insane? Not the scary fungus insane, but regular run-of-the-mill insane? After a minute or so, however, he sat up, wiped a tear from his eye, and appeared entirely normal.

“What the fuck was that about?” you asked after another moment of silence. Joel just shook his head, still smiling.

“You are, without doubt, the most angry and predictable woman I have ever met.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re doin’ it again.” You scowled at him, and his smile widened. “I was teasin’, [Name]. All I meant was, you made sure Ellie got out of there alive. ‘Spose I owe you a thank you for that.”

The gratitude seemed genuine. You glanced to the left to see Ellie still in an exhausted heap on the frozen ground. She’d scraped away the worst of the ice on the dirt and now lay underneath her spare jacket–and Joel’s, you suddenly noticed.

“Yeah, well,” you sighed. “She’s a good kid. I guess it wouldn’t benefit me at all to get her murdered at this point.”

“And I told you you’d regret it if you let her die.”

“I remember that,” you said. “Distinctly.”

“Good. ‘Cause those orders are still intact. We’re not home yet.” You stared blearily into the red embers of the fire and did not answer, maybe because you didn’t have an answer, maybe because you didn’t have the energy. “You’re right, though. She is a good kid. Maybe too good sometimes.”

Suddenly, you fixed your eyes onto Joel’s face. For not the first time, it struck you how odd they were together. Joel didn’t seem the type to knock some lady up and then spend the rest of his life looking after the baby. Besides, he kept up a pretty constant refrain of “You’re not my daughter; you’re not their niece” when in all other respects he certainly acted like she was.

“Where’d you find her anyway?” you asked.

“I–” Joel shut his mouth and shot you another death glare. “None of your goddamn business.”

“God, okay. I was just curious.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he said, and lifted your pot from the fire before you could retort.

“Don’t you dare–Fuck!” You had attempted to snatch it from him and pressed your palm straight into the hot metal. Not wanting to spill any of your precious coffee, you held it there until you could get the pot to the ground. A few mouthfuls sloshed out and into the snow, but you hardly had time to lament. Your skin blistered in front of your tearing eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Joel got to his feet, watching as you danced about the campsite.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whispered, as though that could somehow dull the pain. A scream was clawing at your throat. When Joel appeared quite suddenly in front of you to grab your wrist, it died away.

“What,” he said again, “are you doing?”

“You were going to toss my coffee out, you fucker!” you said, and that time your voice cracked above the approved volume level. “I couldn’t just let you–”

“I was going to ask you if you had a mug or something. Don’t blame me for your idiocy.”

“I’m not stupid!”

“Did I tell you to stick your hand on the pot?”

“Just shut up! God, I hate you!”

“Would you hold still? I want to put some ice on it.”

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He tugged you closer to him, close enough that you shut up. “I said hold still,” he growled. That close, you couldn’t deny how large Joel was. You swallowed and held still. With one hand remaining around your wrist and his eyes still fixed on your face, he very slowly bent, scooped up a handful of snow, and pressed it into your palm. While he held it there with his own hand, Joel stared at you. You stared back, at a loss for words.

“You guys gonna stand there all day holding hands or can I go back to sleep?”

You looked over to see Ellie, half-risen from her cocoon, with one fist pressing into an eye. Color rushed to your face; you tried to tear away, but Joel’s grip on your hand was too great. If you attempted escape, it would only hurt you worse.

“Go back to sleep, baby girl,” Joel said. When you looked back at him, he had a smile on his face. “We’re just gonna rest today. Save up energy for the trip tomorrow.”

Ellie watched him for a moment, allowing her eyes to drift once or twice to you. Very slowly, she smirked. You didn’t know why, but that made you want to hit her. Joel’s fingers tightened around yours as though he somehow knew that.

“You two kids don’t have too much fun,” said Ellie. Then she rolled over and snuggled back into the jackets on top of her. Joel didn’t move, for how long, you couldn’t say. All you could think of, as the sky above you turned robin’s egg blue, was that your coffee would be stone-cold by the time you go to it.


	12. Survival Rule #12: If you can't swim, tell someone. Otherwise they won't notice when you start drowning.

Tommy took the scanners alright, but he didn’t do anything with them. He thanked you for the box and then shoved it somewhere out of sight. Ellie didn’t care; Joel must not have either. Neither even bothered to ask where he was going to leave them. But you hadn’t trekked around for an entire month with an aching arm nearly getting yourself killed–or worse–for nothing. You asked. Tommy, unfortunately, didn’t answer.

“I just need to figure out how to introduce them to people without having a riot on my hands. Don’t want ‘em thinking their vote didn’t matter.”

Needless to say, this was not assurance enough for you. So what if they thought their vote didn’t matter? It hadn’t, had it? Did Tommy want his people to be safe or dead? You followed him around asking questions for days after your return. It was not as though you had anything else to do with your time. But somehow you must have managed to push even easy-going Tommy too far. Your reward was getting to shadow Maria.

She appreciated your company even less. You couldn’t aim a gun; you couldn’t use a knife; you could barely open a door. In a word, you were useless, and Maria didn’t have the time or inclination to baby you the way Tommy and Ellie did. The gesture might have been refreshing and appreciated, if not for what you ended up doing instead: spending a lot of time with Ellie. Whenever she wasn’t in school, she was with Maria, and Maria took every opportunity of ditching the two of you and letting Ellie babysit.

One such afternoon, most of Jackson was empty. Winter would soon be drawing to an end, but the nights weren’t getting any warmer, and much of the firewood stock had been depleted. Every able-bodied member not on guard duty left the walls to help gather more. Inside remained only adults ready to shoot at the first sign of danger, the children deemed too small to fell a tree, and you. No one would trust _you_ with an ax.

Since the day was nice despite the chilly air blowing in from the north, Ellie insisted on staying outside. She didn’t have school–both of her teachers were out with the rest–so you got the “honor” of hanging out with her all morning, listening to her constant chatter about some friend of hers that got bit and where she’d first learned to ride a horse.

“Uh-huh…Uh-huh…Uhhhh-huh,” you found yourself murmuring on repeat as the sun began to dip in the sky. Where the fuck was everyone? Even sitting in huffy silence in the woods would have been preferable to this torture.

“Are you even listening?”

“Uh…huh.”

Something popped loudly against the wall you were leaning on. You sat up with a high-pitched “shit” to see Ellie sitting in front of you, her brow furrowed. “You know, losing an arm doesn’t make you deaf, bitch.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you said with a scowl. Her eyebrows lifted.

“If it’s the only way to get your attention, I’m gonna call you bitch.”

Clearly, Ellie wasn't in the mood to bicker. Or maybe she was and you weren’t. The cold seemed to aggravate your ghost limb. You sighed and tugged your legs closer to your chest. As you did, you took another look at your hand. If there was one positive thing you could say about just about anything, it was that the scarring from your burns could have been worse. At least it hadn’t crippled your only remaining fingers. But more to the point: “What the fuck did you just throw at me anyway?”

Ellie answered by throwing another. A tiny spark shot up from where whatever it was hit the wall. “It’s a snapper,” she explained. “Some kind of old-timey firework. Doesn’t do jack shit, though. I’m seeing if they’d make a good distraction.”

“Why do you need a fucking distraction? Can’t you just shoot them in the head?”

“If you’d been listening to me earlier, you’d know I’m looking into fighting methods that don’t involve shooting things for, you know, when people can’t shoot.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, you little shit.” Ellie blinked at you, then threw a second snapper at your face. It collided with your cheek, bouncing off with a pop. You slapped your palm over the tiny throbbing space on your skin. “Fuck!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes and tossing four more of the tiny white things at the wall behind your head. “Besides, I wasn’t talking about you specifically. Don’t take everything so fucking personally. God.”

“Who else needs shitty fireworks to take out infected, jackass?” you demanded. That only earned you another roll of the eyes. If you hadn’t been so exhausted from the morning’s chores, you might have attempted to backhand her. But Ellie, as always, knew she was safe.

“As I was saying,” she said as she lifted her eyebrows, practically begging you to interrupt, “we’re not gonna have bullets forever. It’s not like there are people making them anymore. The military’s practically gone, after all. Eventually we’re all gonna be stuck without firearms. I figure, why sit around on our asses ‘till we’re forced to adapt?”

She had a point…not that you were in any mood to admit it. “So I guess I’m just lucky enough to be your guinea pig?”

A grin flashed across her face. “And lucky enough that you’ll have an edge on everyone else when guns become useless.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered. Then you gestured at her small pile of snappers with your chin. “Where’d you pick those up, anyway? Tommy got those in storage too?”

“I dunno,” she said. “Maybe. But I snagged these on the way back here. They were in a garage. Joel says fireworks came in bigger varieties, though. Maybe I can find some of those, or I can make them or–”

Ellie broke off, suddenly alert and looking at something to your left. Heavy footsteps echoed from the nearby door. You tensed, though you didn’t bother to look at who was making their way toward you. If it was anyone other than a member of Ellie’s family unit, you’d need to take off without warning. You wouldn’t put it past one of the other Jackson citizens to try offing you while your shepherds were away. A moment later, however, and Ellie's genuine smile allayed your fears.

“Done with the lumberjack business already?”

“I got some time off,” Joel answered. When you finally deigned to look up at him, he was carrying his heavy pack normally reserved for scavenging trips. Ellie must have noticed that, too, because she perked up considerably.

“Is Tommy sending us out?”

He shook his head even as he adjusted the well-worn straps. “Nah. I just got a few hours off to do something I’ve been meanin’ to do for a bit. Might need some supplies if we run into anything, but I don’t think we will.”

“We? I get to come?”

“You’re the whole point, baby girl.” Joel waved his arm in the direction of the closest exit. Ellie hastily crammed her remaining snappers into her pack, shoved one arm into a strap, and jumped to her feet. When Joel started to walk away, she followed.

“Field trip,” she said. “Cool.”

You watched them leave with a feeling of relief. With Ellie gone, you might be able to sneak in a nap before dinner. Or even sleep through dinner, depending on how late the two of them stayed out. That was one day where your desire for sleep was definitely greater than your desire for watery, bland meat and whatever canned vegetables Jackson still had left. Maria was busy on patrol and likely wouldn’t care to find you and ask you to better yourself the way Ellie would.

These pleasant plans were rudely interrupted by Joel coming to a stop so suddenly that Ellie nearly walked straight into him. She took a wide step backward, and then he turned and stomped back toward you.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sitting,” you answered.

“Wrong answer. Get off your ass and come along.”

“Why do I have to go on your fucking errands?”

“You think anyone is keen on leaving you here alone?”

“What, because I’ll run off?” you demanded. “I came back with you two, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s the problem.” Joel watched you for a long moment before thrusting his hand out toward you. All you did in return was frown. You were sore enough that the help was tempting, but not quite tempting enough. He didn’t really need to know how drained you felt after a morning spent following Ellie around and scrapping the decades old graffiti off the inner walls. You shoved his hand away and got to your feet yourself. After another thirty seconds of staring, Joel rolled his eyes and marched off again.

You followed, but you didn’t have to be happy or quick about it. Both Joel and Ellie made it to the gates before you caught up. Once you did, one of the guards on the wall nodded. If you expected an explanation after your little group got outside, you were sorely disappointed. Joel led the way through the naked trees in silence, and for once Ellie didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the silence with chatter. At first this made you nervous, but then you remembered that she hadn’t got to leave the settlement since getting back three and a half weeks ago either. Stir-crazy was an emotion you could sympathize with.

Whatever was up with Joel, though, you couldn’t say. After he’d finished icing your hand, he’d gone back and reheated your coffee. As much as you’d wanted to throw it back in his face, it was coffee and you’d had to accept and offer him a cup for “being nice.” Since returning to Jackson, you didn’t see him much outside of when he came to relieve Ellie from guard duty, but when you did see him, things were different. He wasn’t as much of an asshole, and somehow you didn’t like it. Worse was Ellie, who had taken up smirking on the occasions she found you and Joel together. You didn’t understand the smirk, but you did understand that it made you want to hit her.

It was late afternoon by the time he stopped. None of the firewood-seekers were around. All that lay before you was a wide clearing, vacant of any movement or sound.

“Uh…is this it?” Ellie asked.

“Yep,” said Joel. He watched her expectantly. What he was expecting, you had no idea. There was literally nothing there except a mostly-thawed pond. Ellie let out a gasp when she noticed this feature herself.

“Wait a minute,” she said, quickly backing away. “You’re not–You wouldn’t–”

“It’s time, baby girl.”

“Fuck no.”

“You’ve got to learn some time.”

“Not today.”

She was nearly to the trees; Joel started to go after her, slowly, though, with one hand outstretched. “It’s not that deep.”

“I don’t care. I’m not getting in that. I’m not going to–” While Ellie was busy protesting, Joel got close enough to snatch her. Ellie shrieked as he started to walk back toward the pond with her thrown across one shoulder. “Joel! No! I said fucking no, Joel!”

“Sorry, kid,” Joel said in a tone that indicated he was really more amused than repentant. Even as she continued to scream obscenities, he let her go, allowing her to hit the shallows with a still-impressive splash.

“Joel!” Ellie howled.

“What, you the wicked witch of the west now?” he asked as she glared up at him from the muck. “You melt in water? You’ve never acted this way around ponds before.”

“Because it always had a point! And I had a raft! You want me to fucking…to fucking learn how to swim!”

He spread his arms out in front of him. “Ya caught me. Anyway, now that you’re all wet, you might as well get started.”

You’d never seen Ellie look quite as pissed off at someone other than you before. To his credit, Joel didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated, or so you thought until you remembered that Ellie was a teenager and shouldn’t have been intimidating to anyone. Fuck, you were getting soft. Probably because the people that kept insisting on keeping an on eye on you also insisted on constant displays of familial bonding while you were present.

Glowering, Ellie stood, peeled off her pack, and dumped it on the shore. A ghost of a smile tugged at Joel’s lips as he set his own pack next to it. She looked somewhat surprised when he waded past her into a deeper section of pond.

“I’m not gonna let you drown, baby girl,” he said. “We’re just going to do a few strokes.”

Suddenly her anger turned to nervousness so palpable even you could see it. “I, uh…”

“Come on. What’s going to happen if something happens to me? You want to get stuck out in the middle of a lake? Or fall off a building and drown? There’s not always going to be someone around to carry you.”

“I don’t want carried,” she muttered.

“Then do you want to die?”

“No. I…” She trailed away and shot an embarrassed look at you. Joel noticed as well, because he laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry. [Name] has to learn, too.”

“What?” you barked. That only made Joel chuckle harder. “Oh, I don’t fucking think so. I took swim lessons thirty years ago.”

Joel nodded as though this made sense. Then: “You tried swimming now that you only have one arm?”

You and Ellie froze at the exact same time for entirely different reasons. You because fuck you hadn’t thought of that; Ellie because now she had a rival she had a pretty good chance of winning against.

“You brought me here to make fun of me,” you accused him. He shrugged.

“I brought you here to make Ellie feel more comfortable.”

“Same thing.”

“If you want to look at it that way,” Joel said with another shrug. He then pointed toward where Ellie stood. “Now get.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? That water will be freezing. I’m not getting in in my clothes.”

“You want to go back and get your swimsuit?” Joel asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You fall in the water during a fight–or, I don’t know, just walking, you’re so graceful–you don’t get to pick what temperature it is or what you’re wearing.”

He had a point. Why did everyone keep doing that that day? You were losing ground every which way and your hope for a nap was fading quickly into the distance. Joel rolled his eyes and ran a hand down his face before he looked for a moment at both you and Ellie.

“You need to learn this. If you start drowning in the middle of things, no one is going to notice.” Joel kept his eyes on you the longest. Anger broiled just underneath your skin. It would take you the longest to learn, you knew. Ellie didn’t have to retrain herself to swim a different way. “We do this here,” Joel continued, “I’m not going to let either of you drown. And we’ll go slow. Real slow.”

Ellie seemed to be watching for your reaction. It was thus: You rolled your eyes massively and dumped your coat onto the dry ground. Without saying a word, you tramped over to where she stood, took a massive, shuddering breath, and stepped into the water. It soaked you up to your hips. You’d been absolutely right before, too; the pond was freezing. As you shivered beside her, Ellie smirked and took a step deeper in.

“I’ll go first,” she said. “So you can acclimate.”

To get a head start, more like. Your teeth were chattering too hard to retort. But, hey. Things would warm up eventually, wouldn’t they? And participating beat the shit out of sitting around all day watching Joel and Ellie have fun. 


	13. Survival Rule #13: Don't wander; things around here will kill you.

Winter soon blended almost seamlessly into spring, bringing sweat, surging creeks, and constant reminders that you were still stuck in fucking Jackson County, Wyoming. Months had passed–how many, you could not say for sure, what with all the fucking blacking out you had done in the beginning–but your arm seemed only to improve in its ability to not bleed all over your shit. Pain _still_ shot up your non-existent limb at odd intervals. Your writing remained indiscernible, and your shooting shoddy at best. You could hardly lift anything heavier than a fucking fork.

Worse still, your sudden and extreme klutziness had not passed. Walking was manageable most of the time, but climbing? You could probably forget that. Joel’s continued swim lessons did not boost your morale. Arm or no arm, however, you were pretty fucking sure you weren’t getting out of the settlement. Everyone just turned a deaf ear to your requests to leave.

As the weather grew warmer, you grew cagier. Even Ellie began to tire of your attitude. “How you about suck it up and do the jobs assigned to you?” she would demand. “Focus on not fucking those up, and maybe Maria’ll trust you with something more exciting!”

But how you were supposed to suck it up when a line of cut-rate hunters was paraded in front of you every fucking morning, you had no idea. They would pass by the farming patch assigned to you, and all you could do was glower at them in return. You would probably never be allowed out with them, and once upon a time, you'd been one of the best fucking hunters you'd known.

Farming was the absolute _worst_ fucking job that Tommy had come up with for you yet…barring teaching, but you weren’t about to remind anyone of _that_ fiasco. You thought kitchen duty had been bad? Ha! The little plot of land dedicated to the attempt at growing corn was crammed into one corner of the settlement, and looked after by twelve different people. When you weren’t bumping elbows trying to pull weeds, you were banging into everyone else tearing up grass for another patch nearby.

It didn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that farming outside was a better idea, but Tommy had his reasons. They were not reasons that anyone explained to _you_. Ellie would mutter them around you sometimes when she got fed up with the rest of them keeping you in the dark. Part of you appreciated the subtle gesture; it meant that you could act smug towards Joel when he got particularly aggravating. Another part of you wished she wouldn’t bother. Did she really think you gave two flying fucks whether or not some of the night watch was getting shot at during their shifts? Less of them meant it would be easier for you to break out for a midnight stroll.

But rules were rules, whether or not people gave a reason for them. Only the hunters and the watchmen were allowed outside. Ellie’s classes had been moved into a small, stuffy building inside, too. You got the feeling that if she had not been allowed swim lessons, she would have long since run off herself.

After another long day of breaking ground for the future sugar beet plantation, you returned to your closet-sized room to be alone. Your lack of skill in handling any sort of instrument with grace meant that your team was forever on your ass about doing things right. You could scream at them all you liked, but they had figured out by now that you couldn’t do jack shit to them, and that meant a never ending tirade of insults and jokes at your expense. Add to that the fact that showers mostly didn’t exist anymore and you were dirtier than you could remember being in years, and you wanted no part of the late-dinner set up for those that took a little longer to finish their work.

You had just settled into your filthy blankets for the night when someone rapped on your door. Assuming it to be the man from next door to shout about how you’d stolen his fucking pillows while he was out the previous week, you only turned over and shut your eyes. The knocking, however, continued.

Five straight minutes passed with him pounding a steady beat into the door. The only thing that changed was the intensity of the knocking itself. It got to the point where it felt like he was pounding a steady beat into your head as well. For fuck’s sake, they were just _pillows_ , and you’d given them back to him as soon as he tried to shove your head into the wall!

“I don’t have anything else of yours asshole,” you snapped as you threw the door open. It flew back so hard that it hit the inside of your room with an echoing bang. A few complaints drifted through the rest of the hallway, but you did not let them get to you. “Yeah, like you and Mr. Nine weren’t keeping the rest of us up with your screaming last night, Miss Eleven!”

It had become apparent upon opening your door that your visitor was _not_ your next door neighbor. No, that would have been too fucking easy. Instead, it was Joel, and he looked slightly amused when you finally turned your attention to him. Entertainment had not been what you were aiming for. You snorted and stuck out your chin as you made to lean on the door frame.

“What do _you_ want? I don’t have any of _your_ pillows either.”

“You’d have a hell of a time getting ‘em,” he said, already turning to leave. This meant, in Joel speak, that you were to follow and not waste time asking questions. You practically had to bite your fucking tongue off to avoid the urge. As you did so, you glanced once at your empty bed, then pulled your door shut behind you. As usual, Joel had not waited for you. He was still striding down the dark hallway when you caught up with him.

“If you’re about to tell me we’re going for a midnight swim, I swear to god I am killing you and leaving your corpse to rot right here.”

He answered by opening the door outside and gesturing sharply for you exit the building. With a massive sigh and roll of your eyes, you did. Now that the sun was down and had been so for several hours, it was really _fucking_ cold outside. It was probably late March or early April, and snow was still not entirely unheard of at night–which meant that you didn’t want to be out there! It was cold enough _inside_. Scowling, you thrust your unprotected hands into your armpits and stamped your feet until Joel reappeared again.

“Yes, because I want you to catch hypothermia,” Joel said. His tone of sarcasm was almost identical to Ellie’s; at least you knew where she got it. Before he gave you a real answer, he started to lead you across the grounds. His voice, then, was muffled, except for the occasions when he turned his head enough that he could make sure you were following. “We’re low on watchers for tonight. Ellie says you’re goin’ stir crazy. Figured putting you on duty might help alleviate some of your frustrations.”

You had two options now: Take the assignment like a champ and get killed by an intruder, or complain about having to go alone and have to admit you weren’t up to snuff. Neither sounded particularly appealing.

Joel caught the meaning of your silence. “Ellie and I’ll be there, too.”

The fact that he could read you so easily was really fucking annoying. You didn’t blush; you turned immediately crimson. “Fucking bastard, that’s not–”

“Let’s forgo the tantrum tonight, shall we?” He came to the place in the wall where you were presumably supposed to be stationed. Joel was too good for stairs or doors, and simply hefted himself up. While he busied himself arranging his things, you stood on the ground, frowning at the lights in a few of the plant’s windows.

Spring had revealed a number of untruths that had been shared with you upon arrival: Namely that Tommy’s settlement was not, exactly, a power plant–at least not one that burnt fossil fuel. It was actually more of a dam. The water had frozen before you got there, which explained Joel’s comment about the gates needing fuel. Now that the rivers were running again, Jackson looked something like a real town, what with people using lamps and even old, grimy _microwaves_.

“’Scuse me, but are you planning to join us?”

You looked up to see Joel crouched over the edge of the wall with one meaty hand extended toward you. Biting back a retort that you’d much rather go join your bed, you neared and jumped high enough to snatch his fingers. Joel caught you, and lugged you upwards. A moment later, you tumbled over the cement and onto the wall.

A flash of light caught your eye, and you looked up to see what could only be described as a makeshift camp site. The light came from a tiny fire burning brightly in between two rickety chairs. Ellie sat in one such chair, grinning at your inability to land upright. At her side were her backpack, a small stack of comic books, and a few bags of…fucking _marshmallows_?

“What, are we having a party? What's the occasion?” you asked as you stood and brushed the dirt off your sleeve.

“Why not?” Ellie returned, settling into her chair. You noticed there was not one for you, but then decided that you didn’t care. They both looked uncomfortable as fuck and you’d rather Joel spend a miserable night of having splinters shoved into his back than you. Grumbling, you tramped over to the space in the middle and collapsed there.

“I don’t know, because there’s a fucking _sniper_ out there that’s picking us off, and we’ll probably get killed?”

“We’re not gonna get killed,” Joel said. “And it’s not a sniper.”

“Oh yeah? How the fuck do you know, Mr. Big Shot?”

“‘Cause a sniper would’ve managed to kill someone by now. Besides, it’s not the right kind of bullets being shot. It’s just someone out there with a bone to pick, and I reckon we can manage them before they manage us.”

“And so we’re having a party?” you asked flatly.

“It’s campout,” Joel answered. “It’s a family tradition and Ellie hasn’t got to do it yet.”

“What, sitting in the dark and waiting for the clickers to get you doesn’t count?”

“Aw, lighten up, [Name],” Ellie broke in. “There are four other teams on the lookout and me and Joel aren’t going anywhere. Marshmallow?”

You shoved the offered bag away. Your stomach shuddered at even the thought of how out of date those were, but Ellie shrugged and popped one in her mouth like it was nothing. Great. So now you were expected to be awake for at least five more hours and you’d _still_ have to be up in time to water the corn. On top of all that, you had to deal with Ellie and Joel’s fucking nonsense all the night long. At least it did not take long for either of them to fall silent. Soon, the only sounds were the fire cracking quietly and Ellie chewing on her snacks. You tried your best to ignore both of them and just stare alertly into the surrounding woods. At the first sign of trouble, you were going to dive back over the wall and let your two companions deal with their own problems.

“Is this what it was like?” Ellie asked after cleaning out her first bag of marshmallows, an hour and half or so later.

She had clearly asked the question of Joel, but he appeared not to hear her. Fuck, that meant it fell to you to work things out. “What was what like?”

“Camping with your dad.”

“No,” you said.

“Why not?”

“Because things out there weren’t trying to kill us.”

“That’s not true,” Joel said. “There were always mountain lions and bears and the like.”

“Fine. _People_ weren’t trying to kill us.”

“Serial killers.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“It’s working, ain’t it?”

“How about you, Joel?” Ellie asked hastily, now that she had his attention once more. “Is this anything like when you went camping with your dad?”

Joel picked at his chin for a minute, and then shrugged. “Always went camping with my mom. Dad died before I got the opportunity.”

“You mean…Before?”

“Yeah.” He drew out the word in a long sigh, though his body language indicated that he was not bothered by the subject matter in the slightest. You, however, were an entirely different story. “’S no big deal. Mom was good at what she did. Tommy cain’t even remember ‘im.”

“What happened?” Your voice was a murmur; it was not a question you meant answered literally. In it was a string of more serious questions of the kind you asked yourself every night: What happened to all of us? Why do people leave? Why does everyone spend their lives clinging desperately to their fleshy cicada shell until their souls are cracked out of it?

Joel heard anyway. “Drunk driving accident. I was six.”

Your mouth half-opened, but to say what, you didn’t know. That was just so…mundane. To think that there were people out there still alive that could remember when people didn’t die alone in the middle of the woods, half-eaten with fungus or hunger or bullets, or at the very hands of the people they were trying to protect.

“How about you, [Name]?” Ellie asked. “What happened to your dad?”

This was fitting payback for you having asked Joel, as unintentional as your inquiry had been. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the images and sounds started playing as vibrantly as a movie in your mind: Shouting, jeering, gunshots, makeshift bladed weapons, fire, crying, burning, running faster than you had ever run at any state competition, finding Brycen, wrenching him away from his sobbing friends, running faster, running farther, running into the dark.

“He–”

“Shh.” Joel lifted an arm; you fell silent and shot him a confused look. His eyes, however, were fixed somewhere in the tree line. “I think I heard something.”

Ellie quickly shifted into a better offensive position and lifted her pistol. You shrank into the shadows. Even as you did, you heard something in the distance snap, like a branch underneath a heavy boot. Joel stood with his finger already on the trigger of his revolver. Silence buzzed like a nest of angry hornets; you almost longed for the sound of a ticking watch to break the quiet.

“I can get this entire place up in arms before you get to the gate.” Joel hardly had to lift his voice to get it to carry all the way across the grounds. Almost everyone else was asleep, and the other watch teams weren’t making any noise. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you comin’ out now, nice and easy, with your hands above your head and your gun where I can see it.”

No one answered. You held your breath, waiting. Then several more twigs snapped, very loudly at first, and then faded. In a flash, Joel was to the outer edge of the wall. Something flew through the air at Ellie. She caught it, and when she looked at it herself, you saw Joel’s walkie-talkie in her hands.

“Hey wait,” Ellie said, but Joel cut her off with a sharp look.

“C’mon, [Name].”

“ _What_?” Ellie demanded. He looked at her.

“If something happens, I need you to get ahold the other teams _and_ Tommy and Maria. They might actually _believe_ you if _you_ are the one that makes the call.”

"But she can’t even–”

“Don’t argue. Just pay attention.”

No sooner had he given these orders than did he leap over the wall. A moment later, a soft _“whump”_ sound announced that he had landed. A very prolonged pause followed. Your eyes remained fixed on the point where Joel had disappeared, then flicked over toward Ellie. To say she looked displeased at the development was an understatement.

“ _Well_?” she asked, in a tone that clearly indicated that most of her frustration was to be directed at you. Why the hell was that? It wasn’t as though you’d fucking _asked_ Joel to let you go help him. Speaking of Joel, if you waited much longer, you’d have to deal with him giving you shit about the delay, too. Without another glance in Ellie’s direction, you tossed yourself over the edge. It surprised even you when you landed on your feet. Joel was too involved with the current predicament to say anything, not even the usual jab.

“You ready?” he whispered. All you could do was withdraw your own pistol from the makeshift pocket stitched to the outside of your frayed pack. More than ever, you felt the loss of Ellie's knife, but preparing your gun must have been all Joel wanted, because he gave you a single nod and continued, “Good. Now, stay close and don’t wander. You were right earlier when you said things out here will you.”

“Things back there will kill me, too,” you muttered, but this elicited no further response. Joel began to creep across the barren land surrounding the settlement. Every so often, he would pause and listen intently for the sound of an attack that didn’t come. Several minutes of this, and then he slipped through the electric fence at the very border of the territory, and into the forest beyond.

Once inside the trees, everything seemed even more muffled than before. Something scurried in the undergrowth. An owl hooted dolefully above your heads. You held your breath, hoping, praying that whoever it was had just run off. Unless there was another convenient plank–or, better but more unlikely, a lead pipe–sitting in the middle of the woods, you were royally fucked. There was just no way that someone trying to pick off watchmen at Jackson had come alone.

Joel held out an arm so quickly that you almost barreled into it. Once you came to a complete stop, you looked up to see him holding one finger up to his lips. That was enough to tell you pay attention if you valued your life, and you most certainly did. You’d come this far; you weren’t about to give up now.

He gestured for you to loop around. Maybe Joel had heard something that you hadn’t. Maybe he just wanted you out of the way. As he began to slink into the darkness of a nearby cluster of trees, you took a big, deep breath. Well, you’d wanted to be a big girl and be out on your own. Time to put those big girl panties on and get the job done. You picked through the branches in the direction that Joel had indicated. Probably he was taking care of things without you there to fuck things up. Typical Joel.

For a long while, you could only hear the sound of your boots scrunching into the still-moist leaves beneath them, and your breath whistling quietly in and out of your mouth. Your eyes squinted in the utter dark. The moon was nearly finished waning, and the light you _did_ have wasn’t much help, especially since you did not want to risk turning on your flashlight, in case there were runners around to complicated matters further. Then it occurred to you: You’d last seen Joel quite a while back, maybe even as long as fifteen minutes ago.

You were lost, and there was no way of calling out without attracting attention.

Luckily for you, this situation soon resolved itself without you having to do much of anything. Another something only a few feet away from you cracked much too loudly to be a small animal. When you whirled toward the noise, a loud bang accompanied a bullet whizzing straight toward you. You tumbled backward without thought, landing on your ass with a loud, “Shit!”

A dark shadow rushed out of the trees. You lifted your own gun and fired three very shaky shots before your attacker was upon you. Quite obviously none had met their mark. Thick, gloved fingers wrapped around your throat; you thrashed about, whacking every inch of them with all you had in you. Your pistol smacked into their head; you might have managed to smash them into a nearby trunk a few times. Still, things were looking bad–until the sound of even heavier running footsteps erupted into your clearing. Your assailant froze for one brief, wild second, and then ran off. Joel appeared immediately after. Upon spotting you gasping for breath on the ground, he looked around, made a few quick steps as if to pursue the now-invisible intruder, then seemed to think better of it and crouched down next to you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah,” you answered, unable to accompany the words with any of your usual vitriol because you weren’t sure that you were. You had survived the attack–thanks to your favorite person, of fucking course–but you were pretty sure you had recognized the face of the man staking Jackson out. If you were right, it wasn’t just you that was fucked. From the sound of things, Ellie and Joel, and by extension the rest of Jackson, were, too. Joel probably should have gone after him, but what was done was done, and you weren’t about to dig yourself a deeper grave admitting to something you were trying to forget yourself.


	14. Survival Rule #14: If we get ambushed doing YOUR thing, it's YOUR fault.

The stables were without a doubt the quietest damn place in the entire fucking settlement. Possibly this was due to holding only three horses total, but it didn’t hold all that many people either. You may have gone kicking and screaming, ranting and raving the first time. Then you realized: horses were much preferable to people. Feeding, cleaning, and talking with Ellie’s horse might have been a chore, but at least it was a chore that didn’t make you want to drive a hoe through your fucking eye. You could save that for your mornings and that goddamn corn plot of Tommy's.

“Getting kind of low on the hay,” you told the horse as you groped for the feeding trough through the bright afternoon sunlight flooding Callus Two’s window. He (or so Ellie insisted; you weren’t about to check yourself) stamped his feet when you found it, nearing only to nicker in obvious disappointment at the little amount of food inside. “Sorry,” you said with a careless shrug. “It’s hard all around.”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to give my horse attitude.”

Twisting around, you saw Ellie standing pale in the entrance of the stable. Her glassy eyes flashed dimly even in the well-lit building, her lips set in what you could only assume was a shitty attempt at a scowl. How she was to frighten anyone when she still looked as limp and moist as a fucking cooked noodle was beyond you. You could have tackled her to the ground–if the damn horse hadn’t got in the way. As soon as Callus Two spotted her, he was pressing you against the rough, splintery wall to get at Ellie.

“That’s right. You know who loves you,” she crooned as she patted his neck with one hand and held a second up to his fucking gross horse lips. A familiar crunch filled the air. So _that_ was why the damn horse was so excited to see her.

“The fuck are you doing out of bed?” you grumbled. If Ellie was well enough to bring the animal treats, she was well enough to feed it and water it and clean it and scoop its fucking shit. Wielding a shovel with one arm was no easy task–though you would admit to yourself (and yourself _only_ ) that the work had done wonders for your muscles. That did nothing to change the fact that you spilled the fucking manure all over your shoes more often than not, though, which meant you felt no inclination to be charitable.

“Is she taking good care of you?” Ellie asked the horse. “Just tell me if she’s not. I’ll have her fired so fast her fucking head’ll spin.”

You were in no mood to listen to the little shit poke fun at you. Filthy, exhausted, and hungry, you wanted nothing more than to choke down whatever the fuck the cafeteria had left over this late and crawl into bed. Too bad for you that Ellie was somehow your personal responsibility until Joel came back from wherever the hell he’d run off to. The brat had come down with a bout of food poisoning due to fucking _marshmallows_ of all things. Tommy couldn’t have thought of a better punishment for you skipping out on night-watch duty if he’d fucking tried, not that Joel had allowed it easily or all that willingly.

“Get back to the goddamn infirmary,” you snapped, “and quit wasting the apples on your fucking mule.”

Ellie shot you a look of what _might_ have been amusement–the same look she’d shot you since your being assigned to be her personal slave. She might not have taken Joel ditching her very damn well, but you remaining behind seemed to go a long way in cheering her up. You supposed there must have been _something_ funny about watching you struggle to open fucking doors with your only damn hand clutching a plastic cup of water; still, it didn’t exactly endear Ellie to you any further than she’d already managed by worming her way into your shithole of a life.

“Why should I?” Ellie wanted to know. Callus Two had finished his fruit and moved onto mouthing his slime into Ellie’s hair. The fucking horse seemed more interested in breaking your toes than grooming _you_ , but you shuddered all the same. Horse spit was _not_ something you wanted to have stuck in your hair until wash day. The horse _shit_ was awful enough. Unfortunately, Ellie saw and her weak smile only grew at your obvious discomfort.

“Just go. I don’t want yelled at for letting you walk around again.” Maybe if you started shoveling, she’d leave you the hell alone–not that that ever worked.

“She’s with me.” Maria stepped inside, her eyes narrowed at you. Ellie practically beamed.

“So she’s well enough to be out and about?” you asked coolly. Maria’s presence was not one you knew well enough to think snarling would be tolerated. Though you sensed a kindred spirit in her commands and scowls, it was carefully buried underneath several layers of strained patience.

“I haven’t thrown up in twenty-four hours,” Ellie said with a brightness that did not match her syrupy movements.

“I’ve seen more of your fucking insides than I ever wanted in the past week and a half and _one day_ means you're good to go?”

“She’s fine.” Ellie turning to speak softly to her horse again forced Maria to answer your question. You noticed that, though she met your eyes, Maria’s expression didn’t seem as fiercely determined as usual. Ellie still looked pretty damn white and sweaty. Food poisoning hadn’t been too bad in the distant past, but in this day and age where medicine was jealously guarded and hard to come by, all anyone could do was watch as Ellie tried and failed to keep down one grainy dinner roll after another. Tommy and Maria had spent as much time as they could spare in the infirmary with her. If they thought she was well enough to move about, who were you to argue? Besides her fucking nurse, that was. At least this meant _they_ were watching her. It would keep Ellie out of your hair for a few more days, thank fucking god.

“Fine.” Arguing with Ellie’s aunt wouldn’t do you any favors anyhow. “Just make sure I haven’t been abusing your pet and get out of here. I want to be done before it gets dark.”

Ellie looked over at Maria, who simply shifted her gaze to frown at you. “It’ll take as long as it takes. This is your job until further notice. Failure to do so–”

“Means I don’t get to eat.” You rolled your eyes. How many times did Tommy think you needed to hear this fucking lecture? A couple of days without food had been more than enough to get his damn point across. Several months with three regular meals a day, however meager, made it all the more difficult to go without. It spoiled you. As much as you hated knowing that, you just couldn’t bring yourself to not eat when there was food available. For all you knew, next week it wouldn’t be.

“Ellie,” Maria said, the frost in her voice so apparent you were surprised that you couldn’t see her breath, “go get your saddle.”

Normally, you got the feeling that Ellie _liked_ watching you get told off. Hell, you assumed she fucking _loved_ it. Today, she scuttled off eagerly enough. Callus Two tried to trot after her. Maria blocked the way and looked entirely unperturbed by the hooves going up and down near her feet. It didn’t seem likely that looking busy would work to get rid of her any better than her annoying niece, but you did your best. Then Maria cleared her throat.

“What?” you demanded.

“Listen.” Maria stepped closer, her expression not flickering away from her scowl once. You didn’t see why you should do as she said, but the idea of having a pistol shoved to your head was just as unappealing as it was any other day. “You let anything happen to her–”

“Me? _I’m_ not the one letting Joel’s dying whatsit out on a joyride, th–”

“Quit interrupting me.” When her palm pressed into the holster at her thigh, you fell into a silence that was sure to be as sullen as you intended it to be. There you’d been, minding your own fucking business, and now Tommy’s damn wife was in here acting like you’d dragged Ellie out of her sickbed yourself. “We got a signal from Joel. She’s not going to sit still until she sees him. So she sees him, and you bring her right back here. Understand?”

“No, I don’t fucking understand,” you said, shoulders hunching up around your ears as though you were some sort of cornered cat. “Why the fuck does she need to go running after Joel when she’s sick as one of your bitchy dogs?”

Unlike everyone else in Jackson, Maria didn’t react at _all_ to your temper. There was nothing there of Joel’s impatience or Tommy’s pained sympathy. It was like your words slid off of her. All Maria was concerned about was getting her way; how you went about it didn’t seem to matter. “We can’t get her well until she knows he didn’t ditch her. We need someone to get her there safely.”

“What about _you_?”

“I can’t leave right now. But before you go, I need you to understand one thing very clearly.” Maria got so close to you that your skin crawled. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to retreat, to get the fuck away before she drove a bullet through your skull. Instead, you stood your ground, muscles tensed as her nose nearly touched yours. “ _You’re_ expendable. She’s not.”

Even with adrenaline racing through your system so fast that thinking was difficult, your lips curled at the suggestion that a fucking fifteen-year-old warranted more importance than you, the experienced adult. You’d been hunting since before Ellie had been a fucking thought in some guy’s dick. Of course, you’d lost your arm and become a useless sack of shit since then. You knew it every bit as well as Maria. Arguing wasn’t going to do you a lick of good. Despite this knowledge, your chin lifted in defiance.

“And how do you suggest I get her away from Joel if he’s not finished with whatever he’s doing out there?” you demanded.

“Drag her back,” Maria answered. “Tie her to the horse. I don’t care. I’m just saying, if she’s the only one that comes home on that horse, that’s fine. If she’s not on it at all, don’t bother coming back.”

_That_ pissed you off. Everyone kept acting like you’d _asked_ for this, like it was only out of the goodness of their hearts that they didn’t send you packing out the front door with no time to prepare–as though the collective of humanity even _had_ any goodness in their hearts these days. Your knuckles went white around the handle of your shovel; your lips parted with what you could only hope was a stinging retort, and then Ellie came back and the room was once again filled with excitedly prancing horse.

“What’s going on?” Ellie looked honest to god curious, as though the idea of Maria threatening you was the furthest fucking thing from her mind. You’d seen Maria give Ellie her fair share of lectures (the only person in the damn settlement that bothered), but Ellie seemed to take these in stride as part of being a _family_. Maria was no family of yours, but she seemed perfectly willing to chew you out for something you hadn’t even _done_ yet. And in fact, Maria didn’t bother explaining. All she did was smile that same strained smile given over the discussion of Ellie’s health.

“Nothing,” Maria answered, and stepped away from the horse. “Saddle up. Hold tight to [Name] while she’s steering.”

What you could do to this order but snort? “Like I know how to drive a goddamn horse.”

“You don’t drive,” Ellie said. “You ride.”

“Whatever.”

Maria didn’t look like she believed your lack of horsing experience. Why shouldn’t she have, though? Horses took up space and food–a lot more of both than human beings. Jackson was the only non-military settlement fucking stupid enough to keep them around. It was obvious why: Ellie’s damn sentimentality. Callus Two was like the damn dog she’d never got at that godforsaken school of hers. You, on the other hand, had grown up with real fucking transportation: cars and buses and airplanes, for fuck’s sake. By the fucking way? You only had one arm. How the _fuck_ would you steer a horse one-handed?

After considering you through narrowed eyes for another minute or so, Maria snorted herself, turned back to Ellie, and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine,” she said. “ _You_ steer. But if you start having trouble, you’re walking home.”

“We are _not_ walking home,” Ellie muttered underneath her breath as Maria marched past her and out into the stable hall.

“You will if you have to,” Maria called back flatly. That was the last you heard of her. Only the sound of her boots against the ground announced that she had left. Ellie, meanwhile, was busy getting her saddle situated. It was clearly from Before: old and scratched, with fraying straps and tarnished buckles. You supposed it must have done the job fine, though this didn't matter much either way. Surely Ellie of all fucking people didn’t know how to ride bareback either.

“Are you coming or what?” Ellie’s voice snapped rudely into your musings about whether or not you actually should have learned to ride a horse when you’d had the damn chance. When you looked up, she was already atop Callus Two, reins in her hands and as close to a look of impatience as she could muster set on her face.

“And if I don’t?” you asked in a voice of feigned curiosity.

“Can we _not_ do your fucking drama queen bit right now?” As if the dumb horse could sense Ellie’s agitation, he began to stamp again. 

“Shit,” was all you got out before you’d been backed into the wall again to avoid having your feet broken. 

Ellie did not appear to notice or care. Her eyes were already glued to the tree-line outside the window. “I need to see Joel. Either get on or fuck off–but remember it’ll be really fucking easy for me to catch up with Maria on horseback.”

“You little–”

“ _Not_ right now, okay?”

The look she threw you was almost pleading, or maybe that was just the sheen of sickness underneath her shell of contempt. Whatever it was, it wasn’t that that made you clumsily climb onto Callus Two’s trough and scramble onto his back. Last time you had been in this position was when Ellie had brought you to Jackson. She’d been a hell of a lot more accommodating then; now you were forced to struggle to get yourself adjusted all on your own. Ellie didn’t even wait before she snapped the reins and the horse started off. The bouncing made it much more difficult for you to find your balance and all that came out of your mouth for the next few minutes was a stream of quiet but vehement profanities.

“You done now?” Ellie asked once you had finally come to a stop behind her, legs pressed against hers and hand clutching at her hip as lightly as you dared. With the back of her red-brown head nearly pressed against your nose, you could smell the faint, cloying scent of illness clinging to her. This was the first you’d smelled of it and it nearly made you sick yourself. Even what used to be Wyoming got warmish in the summer, meaning that you hadn’t had to cuddle the little shit to keep her warm at night. You wished you had been able to keep that distance. “Hey. Bitch. You settled?”

“I’m–fuck!” The damn horse obviously hated you, as he took the incline down toward the forest with such a bound that you nearly flew off the back again. “I’m settled, _thanks_.”

She glanced back once at you without pulling to a stop. Unlike you, Ellie knew the lay of the land surrounding Jackson well enough to not have to look where she was going. You could find your way to Joel’s swimming pond and that was fucking it. You were half-surprised that Maria hadn’t insisted on blindfolding you for this little venture with how little you were allowed outside these days. And for what? Who the fuck were you supposed to bring here? Who the hell did she think you liked enough to remain in contact with? “What’s your deal?”

“My _deal_?” you repeated incredulously. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Look, I didn’t fucking _ask_ to be saddled with you for this. If I’d had my way, I’d be going to Joel _alone_.”

“Too bad for me that your family seems so damn keen to keep you around.”

The back of Ellie’s neck turned slightly pink. When she looked at you a second time, you could have sworn that the ends of her lips were twitching up. You must have been mistaken; she never smiled at you or because of you. Then again, you weren’t sure if you were mistaken when she spoke again, her voice uncharacteristically soft: “Yeah, well, you need to get out sometimes, too.” Must have been those marshmallows talking.

Once in the forest, Callus Two slowed considerably. At this rate, it would be past dark by the time you got Ellie home. Maria hadn’t outright said you had a time limit, but you wouldn’t have been surprised to find her standing at the gate waiting for you if you took too long. You snorted into the top of Ellie’s head and looked away. “Your gesture of kindness might be more appreciated if your fucking aunt hadn’t twisted my arm about it.”

“She shouldn’t _have_ to twist your arm," said Ellie.

“Why the fuck should I listen to _her_?”

It was Ellie’s turn to sound incredulous. “Because she’s in _charge_.”

Why did you have to explain the workings of Ellie’s family business to her? That round of food poisoning must have fried the last few brain cells left in the kid’s head. “Tommy is in charge,” you said slowly. Ellie’s responding eye roll was so massive that her head moved along with it.

“ _Maria_ is in charge. Jackson belongs to her family. She used to run it with her dad before he–”

“Died,” you finished for her. Everyone’s loved ones were either dead or fungal and it wasn’t hard to tell if it was the latter. “If it’s Maria’s settlement, why does Tommy give me all my assignments?”

“Maria can’t stand you,” Ellie said bluntly. “Kind of a repeated pattern in your life, if you think about it.”

Already the images were there. They had been creeping closer and closer and closer every night since that bungled attempt at watch duty. You could see a stunted, misshapen figure chained to a tree just out of the corner of your eye, hear the grunting slowly turning into that godforsaken clicking, taste the ghost of warm meat in the back of your throat. Holy fucking shit, could one glimpse of a familiar face in the dark really turn you back into a quivering member of the non-fungus walking dead that quickly?

“Fuck!” Ellie hissed. “Let go.”

Too late, you realized your broken fingernails had dug into her side. You hastily forced your fingers to straighten, balance be damned, but you didn’t bother offering Ellie an apology. You simply sucked in a high, quick breath. “You stand me,” you answered smoothly a moment later. Ellie snorted again, forcing you to add almost insolently, “And Joel.”

You had, of course, _intended_ to get a rise out of Ellie. Baiting her was about the only fucking thing that brought you joy in this life anymore–and no way in Hell were you speeding your way along to Hell. You figured you might as well enjoy the simple things in life, but she had to go and ruin that too. She didn’t immediately snap at you; in fact, she hardly responded at all. For what felt like a whole damn minute, the only sound in your ears was the steady beat of horse hooves against the wet leaves on the ground. When she finally did speak, her voice was so quiet that you could barely hear:

“Did he ask you to go with him?”

“Huh?”

“Did Joel ask you to go with him?”

A frown pressed wrinkles into your forehead. Was Ellie fucking delusional all of a sudden? “Did Joel as me to go _where_?”

“This isn’t that hard of a question!” Ellie snapped, twisting in her seat to glare at you. “Did Joel ask you to go along with him on this trip or not?”

Now that you understood what Ellie wanted to know, you couldn’t help a bitter laugh from bubbling out of your lips. You had been afraid that things were about to turn genuinely serious there for a second. “Why the fuck would Joel ask me to go anywhere with him? You’ve heard him. I’m ‘quite frankly as useful as a chocolate teapot in the desert heat,’” you said, mimicking Joel's drawl for the last bit. For once, Ellie didn’t fire back with a comment about how you _were_ as useless as a chocolate teapot. She really must have been sick, because she just turned back around and was silent again.

Well, if the rest of this trip went by without her typical useless chitchat, you would count that as a victory. You: one, Ellie: somewhere in the fucking thousands. Unfortunately she did not remain speechless. “He had a girl once, you know.”

Her tone was different all of a sudden. You found yourself frowning at her through the flitting shadows of the trees. What did Joel’s past have to do with anything? He tolerated you because Ellie–for reasons that were beyond you–liked having you around. “A daughter or a girlfriend?” you asked. Again, Ellie fell silent. Obviously she was still thinking about it, though, because her thin shoulder blades pinched together. You were only just starting to feel a burning annoyance in your chest at her for bringing it up if she wasn’t going to elaborate when she finally got her damn tongue back on track.

“A girlfriend,” she said quietly.

“Before or After?” you inquired, still faintly frustrated by the pointlessness of the conversation when you could have been in your room sleeping off your inadequate meal.

“After. I met her once. Tess.”

“Tess,” you echoed. What kind of woman had Tess been, you wondered? Tough, presumably, to have lasted that long. Joel took any and every insinuation that Ellie was anything other than his daughter so badly that Tess must have been an adult. You imagined a tall woman, quiet, with smoldering coals in her eyes instead of fire. Maybe she had been a better shot than you, or more likely she had done something productive with her life. She’d definitely have been whole, at least. Probably didn’t go around chopping off limbs in a wild attempt to stave off the inevitable burning of eternity.

Wait. Why the _fuck_ did you care what Joel’s old girlfriend was like? You ought to have wished she was still around so she could fill in for parent-guardian when he was gone. It was Joel’s fault you were being dragged on a horse out into the middle of nowhere to begin with!

While these unsettling thoughts flipped through your head, Ellie appeared to be lost in thought. You could not see her eyes from where you were sitting, but she held the reins loose in her hands, unmoving other than the occasional twist to get Callus Two back on what she must have felt was the right track. Even more irritated to find that she could escape your presence that easily, you cleared your throat. Ellie gave a fucking ridiculous start and said _“What?”_ with obvious frustration, which you ignored.

“Where the hell is your dad anyway?” you asked. Too much longer and the clickers would be out–and it wouldn’t easy to keep them from hearing the steady rhythm of Callus Two’s hooves. Maybe a horse could take out a few on its own; maybe not. You weren’t all that eager to find out firsthand.

As soon as the question was out of your mouth, Ellie’s shoulders hunched again so that her shoulders were up around her goddamn ears. “Joel isn’t–”

But whatever Joel wasn’t (the possibilities were endless), you never got to hear. Laughter had filled the air, several different laughters, and they echoed against the tree trunks eerily in the red-orange light of the evening. The smart thing to do probably would have been to keep going–but hell, you weren’t the one driving. Frowning, Ellie pulled your ride to a complete stop. In the shadows beyond Callus Two’s path, five darker shadows shifted, closer and closer until their owners appeared: three ragtag men and a couple of equally ragged women. As always in bands such as these, there was an obvious leader; the dark-haired man stepped forward so that his relatively clean-shaven face showed clearly in the sun. As the laughter died away, he smiled a disarming smile that showed a surprisingly whole set of teeth.

“Oh, he’s far enough away, darling. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”

Ellie frowned down at the man. “Who the fuck are you?” she asked, tone mild. Either she was even more of an idiot than you thought, or Ellie had goddamn balls of steel. It was true that none of the five had weapons drawn, but several backpacks had crowbars sticking out of their tops and the man in front had a sawed-off rifle in plain sight. For all of Ellie’s tense curiosity, however, his eyes were focused squarely on you. He did not even seem to have heard Ellie speak.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, sauntering forward as casually as fuck. Your eyes felt so wide that they might pop out of their sockets. Your fingers had once again latched onto Ellie’s hip as your only anchor to this goddamn earth. “Looks like that crazy plan of yours worked–‘less you just go runner slower than the rest of us.”

Your companion twisted in the saddle to gape at you. “You _know_ him?”

You would have known him anywhere. Seeing him, your chest ached as badly as the day you had met, and once again you tasted meat in the back of your throat, the first real meal you had had in years and years and years.

“Ezekiel,” you breathed. And then, before Ellie could demand that you explain or before anyone else in that cramped forest space could react, you had launched yourself off of Ellie’s fucking horse and tackled Ezekiel to the ground.


	15. Survival Rule #15: If something makes you that sad, tell someone.

Ezekiel fell backwards onto the soft cushion of fallen leaves below, and your body collided with his shortly after. That wasn’t what you wanted. No, you wanted to beat every inch of his damn fucking smug face black and _fucking_ blue. Up went your one working arm, and down again in a swing at his face. Your knuckles met soil. “You!” You swung again. “Fucking!” Again. “Bastard!” Again, again, again. “Think you can show up here and talk to me like we’re friends? I’ll fucking murder you, you–”

He laughed, damn him. Not a one of your punches met their mark. He laughed underneath your tumult, and when your fist finally looked like it would hit his nose, Ezekiel lifted one hand up to casually catch it. You let out a snarl and swung at him with your goddamn stump. This was even easier to catch, and try as you might to get yourself free, Ezekiel’s grip didn’t loosen, not even as his laughter shook your limbs.

“Still got that same old temper on you, eh, darling?” he asked with a wide grin. Goddammit fuck, fuck, _fuck_. You wanted to chip those perfect teeth, yank them out one by one. You tried to stand up; of fucking course, he just pulled you right back down. Your fist tightened so much that your fingernails dug painfully into your palm. Once upon a time, this face had spelled death to lesser men–lesser men, but never Ezekiel.

“Let me go,” you snarled.

This had all the effect you had grown used to during your time at Jackson: Ezekiel smiled. “And let you go off when I’m so curious as to what you’re still doing here?”

“Let me _go_.”

“No.”

“Ezekiel!”

He only laughed again. It made you sick to feel how your face burned. There was no affection in your body for this man, but he was holding you to his chest like a long-lost lover. You could no more frighten him off than you could Joel or Maria or even fucking Ellie. How the mighty had fallen. “Is that anyway to act in front of that little friend of yours?” he whispered in your ear. “Why, I’d be ashamed if any of my kids caught me acting like you are right now.”

“You don’t have any kids,” you spat, trying and failing to yank yourself up again.

“No,” he agreed evenly. “And there was a time when you’d have rather died than let yourself around one.”

Still smiling, Ezekiel pushed himself up with you cradled against him. The rest of his followers, none of which looked even slightly familiar to you, watched with a cold disdain. He looked for those kinds of people, you remembered. People just like you: Broken and willing to do anything to survive, to avoid the damnation waiting at the end of this godforsaken ride. You wondered how long these four would last. Depended on how much Ezekiel liked them in the end; it always did, unless one of those ladies had the bad sense to get knocked up, or try to get there with Ezekiel. And why the hell should they? There were easier ways of ending up buried in the ground.

“What’s your name, dollface?” Ezekiel called up to Ellie. Her green eyes were narrowed with dislike and set firmly on his features rather than your discomfort. You made a noise of discontent and shoved at his chest. Your weak arms did nothing yet again; Ezekiel just clenched you there harder. When Ellie didn’t answer, he only smiled. “It’s Ellie, right?”

You threw an open-mouthed look at Ezekiel, which he caught, though he did not deign to acknowledge it. Ellie was a much more important, interesting target. “How do you know who I am?” she asked, looking at you with undisguised suspicion. Oh, sure. Yeah, you were _friends_ with this asshole. That was why you had attempted to beat him to a bloody pulp: friendship.

“Why, who ‘round these parts hasn’t heard of ol’ Ellie and Joel?” Ezekiel asked. Finally he released you to turn, arms open, to the crowd behind. You turned, too, as you rubbed at the spot on your arm he had clamped down on, to see them all nodding, murmuring. A slow chill spread down your spine. Surely Ezekiel wouldn’t have invited them along, but then again, he always had liked attention and adoration. It never had mattered much who it came from. The plan had been to get away, but if they’d swear allegiance to him now, Ezekiel wouldn’t care one fucking bit. You ought to have considered yourself lucky getting out while the getting was good, apparently.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“It means Joel and I murdered someone of theirs sometime,” Ellie answered for Ezekiel. He showed his teeth once more, then shook his head.

“I wouldn’t say they were one of mine.” Done with this part of his show, he strode over to Ellie and her horse. Ellie watched him distrustfully, but the only thing Ezekiel did when he got there was to look up at her with frank geniality. “I’m Ezekiel. Nice to meet you, beautiful.”

Ellie had gone very white; she even sucked in a long, high breath. But when she spoke again, her voice was calm and the hand clutched tightly around her knife didn’t quaver. “You know, I murdered the last fucker who called me that.”

“I am well acquainted with that fact, doll,” Ezekiel said as he examined his fingernails. “Thought about sending you a thank you note, actually. We don’t need scum like David still walking the earth. Got enough of that without his sort of people.”

He lifted out his hand toward her. Ellie looked pointedly at it, pointedly at him, and shimmied Callus Two backwards toward the trees. That was your fucking girl. The tiniest of creases furrowed Ezekiel’s brow, but then he was covering it up quick as could be. His eyebrows lifted, his hand arced up and back to rub at his shoulders.

“Where’s Joel?” Ellie demanded.

“What’s that?”

“Where’s Joel? You said you saw him. What’d you do to him?”

A few of Ezekiel’s gang tittered, and as much as you hated to admit it, the sound caused a fresh shudder to make its way up your goddamn spine. Every single show of weakness you could muster was there on display for this man, but Ellie must have felt the same way, because she sat up straighter in her saddle, eyes flashing. No one that didn't know her would expect that this was a girl fresh from a wave of food poisoning.

“Where’s Joel?” she shouted. The laughter grew. Ellie looked suddenly exactly what she was: a pale, sick little girl. Her knuckles went parchment white around Callus Two’s reigns. Ezekiel just grinned.

“Why would I do anything to him, darlin’? I want to shake his hand, same as with you.”

His teeth might have been straight and his cheeks clean, but you knew Ezekiel was a liar, through and through. This hellscape had always been full of them, but Ezekiel was most certainly the worst of the lot. “Where’s Joel?” you asked yourself, and Ezekiel’s grey eyes slid toward you. His hand fell to his side. Yes, he was definitely lying–and he didn’t have the gall to try lying to you again, not when you knew him so well after traveling with him all those years.

“He’s back there.” Ezekiel jerked his head back the direction he and his crew had come from.

“Doing what?”

“I don’t have to tell you that.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re not one of mine anymore. No, [Name]. Looks like you’ve fallen in and become one of _them_.”

“Them?” you repeated, hackles raised. “There is no _them_. There is no fucking _us_!”

Ezekiel opened his mouth to reply, but a distinct masculine shout from behind interrupted him. Ellie sat up ridged on her horse. Then she was gone, bounding away from you through the trees without so much as a fucking goodbye. You were alone–with Ezekiel. You swallowed. He had no reason to keep you around anymore, and what was more, you didn’t want him around either. But you sure as hell didn’t want dead. You lifted your chin as he beamed down at you.

“You got a soft spot for the kiddos, don’t you?” Ezekiel asked cheerfully. “I wonder if you’ll take as good a care of this one as the last. You gonna bring her fresh meat, too?”

Your breath caught painfully in your chest. Ezekiel’s words were like a knife jammed between your ribs: you couldn’t get enough air and the world spun backward until you found yourself fucking _there_ again: spattered with cooling blood, the bits and pieces of two perfectly human campers spread between you and the grinning man coming for you through the trees.

_“They’re not for me. They’re not for me. They’re not for me,”_ you had said, terrified even as you heard the nearby chains rattling loud enough to make this obvious.

_“Oh, darling,”_ the strange man said. _“I don’t care who they’re for. Just if you can do it again.”_

The same numbness that had spread through you then spread through you now. If you had a knife on you, Ezekiel would be in as many fucking bloodied bits scattered across the woodland floor, too. Him and his new gang of merry misfits. But you didn’t–and what was worse was that you were all alone. Callus Two’s hoof beats faded through the trees, and there you sat still on the forest floor. Abandoned. Again.

“Looks like you were right,” Ezekiel observed. “There really is no ‘us.’”

“She’ll come back.”

“I think she’ll be a little too busy for that, dollface.”

For whatever reason, the implication in those words made your blood run cold. Suddenly you shivered, despite the fact that it was full-on summer and so hot you felt like you were wrapped in several goddamn Christmas sweaters. “What did you do?” you demanded.

“What do you care?” he asked as he picked a bit of dirt out from underneath a fingernail. “There’s no us. There’s no them.”

That was true. It should have been true, at any rate. Your mind’s eye disagreed. It saw Ellie, racing through the trees, galloping at full tilt only to tumble off Callus Two and break her neck, or get surrounded by Clickers, or arrive only to find Joel dealing with a Bloater.

“What,” you asked again, “did you _do_?”

Ezekiel cocked his head to one side, his smile slowly fading. “Always so suspicious. You know, I liked you better when you wished you were dead.”

Your upper lip twisted with hatred, but you didn’t tell him what you were thinking: That you’d liked you better when you wished you were dead, too. Being dead inside made being alive outside a hell of a lot fucking easier. No conscience to torment you. Just days of daze as you went about the business of survival. Back then, you had only had nightmares during the night.

He saw the venom in your eyes. As usual, this only amused him. “Tell me. Does Jackson make you feel alive?”

You bristled. The implication that that place had done anything to bring you back to life–had Ezekiel forgotten the hand print emblazoned on his goddamn cheek before that last fight in the woods? Could he recall waking up and finding you standing above him, trying to figure out where you could stab the bastard to get rid of him the fastest? His stupid fucking typical smirk told you that he did–and that he didn’t care. You had stayed with him there, like a lost little puppy. He had every confidence that you were going to do so again. What hope did you have of striking out alone? Even less than in those first hours after leaving those two, tiny bodies in the dirt–

Ezekiel’s sharp eyes lifted toward the tree line. He was listening. Listening for Joel and Ellie. But nothing came. Who in the fuck knew why, but this bolstered you. Those two were more than a match for a swarm of clickers. It might have worked for the two of you before, but not on them. Not on Joel. Not on Jackson.

“Whatever you’re wanting out of those two,” you said with savage pleasure, “it’s not going to work.”

There was a darkness in Ezekiel’s face as he returned his attention to you. It was a darkness familiar to you. It was a darkness that leeched out of him and into everyone that came into contact with him. How fortunate for you that you had met him with that same darkness in yourself. He couldn’t do anything to you. There wasn’t any taint in him that you didn’t already have yourself.

“I’ll tell you what the plan is,” Ezekiel said, crouching so that his smile was only inches above your face, “if you agree to stick around this time.”

_No. Fucking no. Take your goddamn bitch face out of here and leave me alone._ The words raged in your head at deafening volume. They were not the words that came out. No, the words that managed to slip out of your mouth were quiet, docile: “I–I wouldn’t be of any use to you.”

You weren’t of any use to anyone. Never had been. Couldn’t get your mom to stay. Couldn’t protect your dad. Couldn’t handle the kids. Couldn’t keep your brother alive. Couldn’t keep your brother _half_ -alive. Now you were down a limb, and your accomplishments certainly hadn't grown since. What good was staying in Jackson day after day, spending hot afternoons planting corn and cold evenings watching from the dam walls? Might as well find the nearest spore pit and breathe in deep. No more Ezekiel. No more Jackson. No more Joel and Ellie.

Ezekiel reached a soft hand out to touch the crown of your head. Scowling, you swatted it away as you scrambled backward in the dirt. Fuck. This was your place now, wasn’t it? But he just bared his teeth again. “You’re special. You know that. I’m sure we could find you something easy to do, if you could help us out. Then you could stay there. With us.”

“Something easy. Sure. Why the fuck not?”

A low rumble of a chuckle exited his throat as Ezekiel knelt. He kept his fucking space this time, thank god, but the look on his face only made you want to hit him more and harder. “That’s right. You’ve got it pretty easy down there in Jackson, don’t you? All you’ve gotta do is not murder anyone. But you’re not happy, are you? You and I both know what you really are. We both know that you’d rather be out there purging the place, huh?”

He didn’t understand you. For fuck’s sake, Ezekiel had never understood you. There had been a time in your life when you had wished that he had. You’d even played along for your own sake, and for the sake of the slowly bloating baggage you'd carried with you. But he hadn’t then–and he wouldn’t now, either.

“People aren’t any good anymore, [Name],” Ezekiel had the balls to continue. “Once upon a time, we agreed on that. We agreed on more. Remember the last time you decided to be around people? Remember David? Remember Brycen?”

Your good hand dug deep into the mud beneath you. A boiling rage started up in your chest. How dare he? How fucking _dare_ he? To bring up David–and then to bring up Brycen–to act like you didn’t know, like you were still the naïve little girl he tricked years ago. And then you were up again and barreling back down at Ezekiel until once more you had him in the dirt.

“That was you!” you screamed, the words scrambling out of your throat with wicked sharp claws that matched those that you bore at Ezekiel’s face. “You’re the goddamn son of a bitch that did it! It wasn’t those fucking people out there! You fucking lied to me and you have the fucking nerve to–He died because of you! David and you–Don’t you fucking tell me it was me, you goddamn–”

A collection of cold, quiet clicks interrupted your tirade. Breathing heavily, you returned to yourself to see what you had done, the collection of bleeding gashes across Ezekiel’s face, and the several guns now surrounding where you stood only a few inches still from the dirtied bastard.

And then he smiled again.

“But it _was_ you. It was you the first time. Not our fault you picked an Infected boy over those others–over us. It was better that way. We gave him mercy, [Name]. What were you giving him, keeping him alive like that?”

This was it: the fucking end. You would die here, with Ezekiel’s mockery ringing in your ears, where you had no doubt that it would stay for all eternity. A fitting punishment. Better, really, than you deserved. The heated feeling deep inside you wormed its way up your throat and out your mouth in a sob. You needed to look up. You wouldn’t die with your head bowed. You wouldn’t–

“Now!” shouted a voice from the undergrowth. Ezekiel twisted, and in his distraction, you kicked him as hard as you could. Maybe your arms were useless, but you still had the legs you’d been famous for at seventeen. With a grunt, he fell over–but that left the rest of his group staring you down. Or it would have, had someone not tossed a smoke bomb into the middle of the circle that very moment. There was no time to react. There was a warning or two shouted, but not in time. The bomb exploded, filling the clearing with thick white powder. You took your chance, shoving past your nearest captor with such force that you heard them fall behind you. Where had that strength been only a few minutes ago? It didn’t matter. What mattered now was that it was taking you out and away. You didn’t much give a damn as to where.

The sound of hooves sounded behind you, and you picked up the pace. It had been months since you had run this fast or this far, but you couldn’t stop. That was Ezekiel barring down upon you, you just knew it, and then the horse was there, and so was an enormous hand that reached down to anchor itself around your good arm and wrench it upward. Coughing, you stumbled across the roots snaking across the ground with nothing but the iron-grip around your upper arm to hold you up. Had it not been there, you would have fallen under the crashing hooves beside you long ago. The burning in your lungs prevented you from swearing, at least–until the hand yanked you up with such force that it felt like your remaining arm was being pulled from its socket. “Would y’ quit screaming? Kinda defeating the purpose of a goddamn smoke bomb!”

This was the only way your situation could turn out worse. The horse was Callus Two, and the hand belonged to Joel. Ellie had the reins, and–and there wasn’t room on a fucking horse for three fucking people, two of which were grown adults! Joel had you in his arms, flush against his wide chest, and you found yourself panting and sobbing into it like a goddamn baby. The tears had stopped, but the fear was still wild in your brain. No, this wasn’t better. No, this wasn’t alright. No, no, no, no. You should have died. Maybe then you could apologize to Brycen for everything. Except you already knew he hadn't gone where you were going.

“You gonna be okay?” Joel asked in his deep voice. God, how you wanted to snap at him. How you wanted to rend him limb from limb for seeing you in such a state. That very state prevented any of this. Instead you just swallowed and nodded. Back to Jackson, then. Back to the dam. Away from Ezekiel, which had been at least the direction you had wanted to head in your escape. Joel heaved a sigh, pulling you a little closer as he did. “Next time something makes you that sad, tell someone,” he told you. “Before it becomes a problem.”

“Jackass,” you whispered. You meant it still. You did. Joel knew that; that was just the way things fucking were. Just as well, you knew that his pulling you so close was only to keep you steady on the horse as Ellie raced him back home. That was fine. It gave you an excuse to–just this once–huddle closer to the rough fabric of his shirt and take comfort in his closeness. You could grow up when Jackson came into view. For now, you were just that same broken girl again, more alone than you'd ever been in your entire life.


	16. Survival Rule #16: If you're scared of the giant-ass monster, tell someone sooner.

Brycen had cried when he'd first started the change. The little idiot. He had done it on _purpose_. He had wanted it, and then he was too frightened to face it in silence. He'd been so small and so young. It didn't take long. A few hours, at most. Knowing what was coming, even understanding it, couldn't put a stop to it. He cried as the fungus began to creep through him, cried through each and every goddamn night, save for those when you weren't careful enough, when you let him go creeping around for food on his own. Even then, you found him sobbing over his meals. The taste of raw meat never did take.

Eventually the cries turned into moans, the moans into clicks, and the clicks into a roar. Then silence. Silence forever. Silence inside your head and silence outside. Years of growing used to clicking and clanking, of Infected and chains, and your world went completely quiet. You couldn't remember much of what followed. One day, you'd simply come back. Ezekiel's smile had been there to greet you. If only you'd taken the time to stab that bastard then. Might have saved you a hell of a lot of heartache. But you'd been younger and more ignorant than you were now. And hell of a lot more dead to the world.

You had never thought you would welcome the numbness of becoming a member of the living dead. Maybe "welcome" wasn't the best word to use, but you might have preferred to just stop again. Too bad you lived with people now–people that wanted you alive, for whatever godforsaken reason. Ezekiel had always preferred you a little dead, but not Ellie or Joel or even fucking Tommy. Not two weeks after your little run in with Ezekiel in the forest did Ellie come banging into your broom closet of a room after you'd collapsed from the effort of weeding all day.

 _"What_?" you asked as she stood over you, hands on her hips.

"Get your ass up," was all Ellie said in answer. When you made no move to follow a goddamn child's orders, her hand whipped out to yank on your arm. "Now!"

"No."

Ellie immediately stopped yanking. In fact, she dropped your arm. "What?"

"No," you said again, and closed your eyes. Maybe if you pretended you were dead, she'd go away. Children weren't that much smarter than clickers, after all. However, you had no such luck with Ellie (or with anything else, for that matter). Now that she had a target for whatever she was here for, Ellie wasn't going to let go.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you, bitch?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

"Like fuck it's nothing." She threw herself onto your bed. "Spill."

You groaned theatrically, hoping that if you made a big enough deal she'd get sick of you and leave. That was a no go, too. Ellie simply watched you as though you were a mildly interesting television program, perhaps an early round of one of the thousands of singing competitions they'd had before the end of life as you'd known it. "What," you snapped when this didn't work either, "are you an in-training psychologist now, too?"

She shrugged, and wiggled backward to press her back against the grainy wall. "Haven't decided yet. The world could use those, too, y'know."

"You don't even know what a psychologist is."

"Fuck you. I read. Lot more than you do. Do you do _anything_ in here other than sleep?"

"No. And I'd be doing that now if you'd just leave me the fuck alone."

"No, you wouldn't," she argued. "You'd be too busy with those nightmares you've been having ever since we ran into that jackass toothy guy looking for Joel."

"How do you know about that?"

"Oh, _please_. Like I haven't woke you up from eight this past week. Even if I hadn't, the whole hall is talking about you screaming in your sleep."

"Bastards," you muttered. The fact that you didn't get up with every intention of blowing their collective heads off must have spoken more of your mental state than you'd thought, though. Ellie's face softened, though she clearly tried to hide it.

"Whatever. You don't wanna get shit off your chest, fine. You're a big girl with big girl panties and everything, so you can handle it by yourself if that's what you want. I just need to know you're good to go."

You stared dully at her. "Good to go where?"

"Joel and I are headed out. Fuck knows why, but he wants you to come with us."

"Tommy tell him to?"

"Probably."

"I don't want to."

"Too fucking bad, bitch."

With a snarl, you rolled over and pulled the sheets along with you. That was that. You weren't letting Ellie take you _anywhere_. If she wanted to miss dinner sitting there watching an unmoving lump in someone else's bed, then she could be your guest. You had important plans involving the back of your eyelids and a lot of catching up on sleep. Just because _she_ got to do whatever the fuck she wanted all day didn't mean it was a luxury the rest of you shared. _Some_ people had to do shitty jobs all day to earn their rations every night.

"[Name]," Ellie groaned. You ignored her. "[Name], if you don't get up, I'm gonna have to bring in the big guns."

Big guns, sure. Right. If you had learned to sleep through a hungry zombie trying to get free of the tree it was tied to, you could sleep through her prattling. Just had to close your eyes, and slumber would come creeping up. You were exhausted enough to avoid the nightmares this time, surely.

"Or the big gun might just come in himself. Joel did _send_ me to get you, you know. I'm sure he's already wondering why I'm taking so long getting back. He might even think you're threatening me, and that won't go well for you at all. 'Specially if I tell him you _were_ threatening me."

You opened one eye just wide enough to glare at her. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, bitch."

Before you had time to even consider trying Ellie, the necessity vanished. The door to your bedroom opened and in stepped her monster of a surrogate father. Joel was so goddamn enormous that he seemed to fill your room. The summer heat was unbearable to begin with, but with him in there, it was like all the oxygen got sucked out at once. You glowered up at him. From her perch on your bed, Ellie just blinked. He didn't look at her. Instead, he glared his own set of daggers straight down at you.

"You're coming," he growled.

You scowled. "Make me."

Joel continued to glower for another half-second, then his scowl vanished. Yours did, too, so surprised you were to find that you had won,or so you thought. Because the next thing Joel did was shrug and say, "All right," right before he bent down and lifted you off your bed, quilt and all.

"Fuck! No!" You drummed on his wide back with your one hand, but this deterred Joel not at all. A beaming Ellie bounced after the two of you. "I don't want to go! Dammit, Joel! Put me the fuck down!"

Up and down the hallway, doors opened and heads popped out. To say that you were a usual cause of commotion would be an understatement. Which meant those fucking idiots had better things to do than watch Joel manhandle you all the way outside. Nothing you said or did stopped him, or even caused him pause. All you could do was grit your teeth and watch as Ellie once again skipped behind the two of you, grinning toothily at your dour expression. One of these days, you were gonna knock her pretty little teeth out. You'd have liked to see her goddamn smile _then_.

Your resignation to your fate became obvious when you stopped kicking and punching at each of Joel's steps. You fell back in his arms, still frowning, to stare up at his face. He wasn't the worst looking guy in the whole damn world, really. Worked the unshaven look better than most, and there was something attractive about the deep lines in his face. You gasped–and didn't know if it was at the direction your thoughts had turned, or because Joel had set you down on your feet with your thread-bear blanket draped across your shoulders.

"There. That's a little better," he said, adjusting your quilt to look more like some shabby cape and looking terribly pleased with himself. "Now, you gonna act like a grown woman, or am I gonna have to watch you throw another tantrum?"

"You could kiss my ass before you watch it run back to bed," you suggested as you balled your blanket up between your hands. "Or anytime, really. I'm not picky."

"That answers that question," he said.

"Oh, fuck you."

The statement had very little heat in it. You were finding it difficult to stay angry for long. Anger burned you out faster than anything, and staying that way seemed pretty fucking stupid when you could just be apathetic instead. Besides, you being apathetic ought to have given you bonus points from Joel. If you weren't spitting at him, he should have been happier-but he wasn't. As you watched through a haze of tiredness, his eyes found Ellie.

"Told you," she said.

"Told him _what?_

"You were right," said Joel. "It's bad."

"Real bad," she agreed.

"Real goddamn stupid bad. Listen," Joel turned his attention back to you, "you're comin' with us on this gig. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"Oh, there are plenty of butts. I'm looking at two fuckin' huge ones right–

"Gettin' out and about will do you more good than sitting around moping. Right, Ellie?"

"Right!"

"How the hell's _she_ supposed to know?" you demanded, firing up despite yourself.

"She reads a lot."

If you could go back in time and let yourself bleed out in the cabin they'd found you in, you probably wouldn't, but goddamn it would be tempting. The pattern of your life was not, as Ellie had claimed, people hating your guts, but rather you getting stuck with absolute fucktards every time you rid yourself of the last set. "I'm not wearing any shoes, and I don't have my pack, and if you make me go back and get them, _I'm not going to leave my room_. Ever!"

"Already getting better." Lucky for Ellie her fucking smirk was only in your sights for less three seconds while she grabbed your blanket from you. Then she was headed back the way your little trio had come from. "I'll go get your things, so quit bitching, bitch. We're trying to help."

"It'd help me more if you'd _quit_ helping," you muttered. Ellie's "help" was what had landed you in this miserable situation to begin with. You were sure, absolutely fucking sure, that if she and Joel had never stumbled upon your shack in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, your arm would have stopped bleeding eventually, and you would have been on your way to somewhere more consistently warm and dry and void of the two of them–like Arizona, for instance. God, that would have been great.

"Come on. We're gonna be late."

You had all but forgotten that Joel was there. He and Ellie were so usually attached at the hip, save for when Ellie got herself near-dead eating goddamn marshmallows. Just him speaking was enough to startle you, but of course he had to go the fucking extra mile: he had grabbed your wrist and started pulling you after him.

"What are you–oof!–doing?" Sounding irritated was a lot harder to do when you were trying to get your footing while a much larger man dragged you in his wake by your one remaining arm you had left to help balance yourself.

"Don't want to lose you, do I?" Joel asked, as if this sort of behavior was the most normal thing that had happened today. It was absolutely _not_. His hand was not vice-like around your wrist; his fingernails did not dig into your skin. Slipping out of his grip wasn't possible, but still said grip was almost...gentle.

 _"He had a girl once, you know."_ Ellie's words echoed back to you so clearly that you actually twisted around to yell at her for saying something stupid like that now. But she wasn't there. You were just crazy–and that was obvious enough to begin with. You knew Joel had had a girlfriend once upon a time. Who gave a fuck? You weren't trying to be his new one, and even if you were, that girlfriend was infected-chow now. Wasn't like you were horning in on some other bitch's territory. Or that you wanted to, obviously. If _that_ was what Ellie was getting at, she was even stupider than you thought.

Having confirmed that the words were nothing more than a product of your diseased mind, you went back to focusing on walking a straight line. You and Joel were headed straight for Jackson's front gate. In front of it stood a man with his back turned toward you, shaggy hair sitting flat on his shoulders due to the utter lack of helpful breeze.

Upon hearing Joel's steady footsteps and your considerably less steady ones, Tommy turned around. You couldn't suppress a frown at seeing him, nor did you try. Lately, if you saw Tommy much of anywhere, it always lead to more fucking work. More weeding, more planting, more knife sharpening. Your hope that Ellie had been lying about Tommy suggesting this supply run was dashed, and you didn't doubt for one minute that it was all his idea. Joel must have expected your instinct to dash off again, however. His hand enclosed your wrist tightly enough that you would fall on your face as soon as you tried.

"[Name]," Tommy greeted you. "Joel. Nice of you to join me."

"Sorry we're late," Joel said. "Had a bit of an issue picking up the third member of the team."

Tommy smiled at that–a _weird_ smile. A smile you didn't like the look of _at all_. What, did he think that you were really a part of this bizarro family unit they'd cobbled together? "Where's Ellie?"

"Picking up this one's things." Joel released you, then actually _shoved_ you forward. By some miracle, you managed to stay on your feet _and_ shoot him a withering look at the same time. Not that this put even a dent in his stride. "She was a little reluctant to come along today."

"Really?" Tommy lifted his eyebrows. "Thought you liked getting out of the place, [Name]."

Normally, you did. But not when it was what Ellie wanted, and certainly not when it was what _Joel_ wanted. "All I want is to go back to bed. Considering the fact that I already did all the shit you wanted me to today, I think I've earned that right."

What a calm, reasonable way of voicing your wishes. Tommy was a calm, reasonable sort of man. Or, he was when it was of no benefit to you whatsoever, because although he looked as concerned as he always did, he didn't fucking go for it! "I'm afraid we have to take you on this one."

"What the hell for?" Stomping your foot did not seem unreasonable. Even when you did everything these goddamn people wanted, they wanted more! This was why you preferred to be alone. "I'm not going! I'm staying here. Unless you want Joel to carry me bridal-style through the forest, there's nothing in hell you can do to get me out there."

"Ellie says you knew the hunter group that ambushed Joel."

Nothing in hell except that. You could feel color rising in your cheeks, whether due to embarrassment over your overreaction to seeing Ezekiel–not that it _was_ an overreaction; the bastard deserved worse than some shallow face wounds–or anger over Tommy daring to bring that up, you couldn't say. All you _could_ do was try to put a stop to it. He didn't know. All he had to go on was goddamn Ellie's word for it, nothing else. Unfortunately, her word was worth her weight in gold around these incredibly stupid parts.

"What's it to you?" you asked.

Tommy struggled to prevent himself from rolling his eyes, and only _just_ managed. "They've been causing us trouble. Joel figures they're the ones that have taken to shooting at people during the night watches, started that fire out by the swimming hole. She seemed to think the man you were talking to had some sort of plan."

"Right."

All Tommy did was blink at you. From behind, you could feel Joel's eyes on your back. " _Well_?" he prompted you.

"Well what?" you snapped, spinning around, hand balled into a fist.

"Well, do you know his plan or not?"

Had he or had he not watched you cry into his fucking plaid flannel button-down after your run in with Ezekiel? Had you _looked_ like a woman in on a plan? Had any of that made you look somehow _less_ pathetic and more capable than you had since losing your goddamn arm? Of course not! But here Joel was, trying to get you kicked out of Jackson on a hunch. The way you saw it, you had a decision to make: Ellie or Ezekiel. You could come clean right now, tell them you had no fucking clue what went on in Ezekiel's head on any given day, or you could milk this for all it was worth, string them along with hints about plots, maybe get the same special treatment Ellie was afforded. The latter would require more effort than you had in you at present.

"I don't know what his plan is," you admitted.

Tommy let out a long breath. "That's a shame," he said, "but you _do_ know the man?"

"We're..." you hesitated, "acquainted."

"Good enough. Here comes Ellie." This last bit was tacked on so quickly that you had no chance to ask what in god's damn name what knowing Ezekiel was good for. It sure as hell had never been good for anything before. But no sooner has the words left Tommy's mouth than did you hear the quick pitter patter of shoes racing up to where the three of you stood.

"Got your stuff," Ellie said breathlessly, as she shoved your pack into your arm and dropped your boots at your feet. "What I miss?"

"Nothing much, baby girl," Joel said, coming to stand by her. "Tommy was just about to tell us what he called us to action for. I'm guessin' it's not for a scavenging mission this time around, else [Name] here could get her beauty rest."

"You'd guess right. Those attacks I mentioned from [Name]'s friends," only a brief pause called attention to your annoyed snort, "have escalated."

Any levity the attention had got sucked out immediately. "Escalated _how_?" Joel asked.

"There's a bloater loose," Tommy answered. "We've been monitoring the area with all the scavenging crews, and you know we've had no reports of–"

"Bloater?" Your voice was undeniably high, and undeniably late. It had taken your brain that long to process the information. Now that it had, it suddenly wouldn't shut the fuck up. "There's a bloater out there? Nearby? You're sending us out to look at a bloater?"

Tommy and Joel exchanged looks that would have infuriated you, had you not already been so distracted with the buzzing in your hand. Your shoes remained where they were, next to you on the grass, and your eyes remained wide and fixed on the gate that was the only thing between you and a bloated, fungus-covered death. You'd take the nightmares over this, nine times out of ten. What was a bloater doing near Jackson?

"I'm gonna need you do more than look at it, [Name]," Tommy said when you said nothing for a long minute. "Is there a problem?"

Your mouth was too dry to try any more words. You gulped, shaking your head. All you could see was the last bloater you'd run into, Brycen's dead and decaying body lying on the ground as the spores floated out of him.

"If [Name]'s too scared to come–" Joel started.

"I need her to see if there's any hint of her buddy bringing it in," Tommy interrupted. He walked toward you, worry furrowing his brow. That, more than anything else, kicked your brain back into gear. You shook yourself as he approached, hastily yanking on your boots before anyone else could suggest you stay at home. "You think this could be part of his plan?" he asked when he saw your sudden eagerness.

"Doubt it." You shoved your foot in the last shoe and popped clumsily up to your feet. No waiting for Ellie to help adjust you as you wavered in the air; you were already headed for the front gate. No reason delaying the inevitable. "If he's planning anything for you guys, I'm sure he'd love it if this helped. But the bloater's for me."

"How's it supposed to be for you?" Ellie called after you.

"It's a warning."

A warning you intended to meet head on. You had murdered worse than bloaters on Ezekiel's watch. He'd always figured it was what you'd done after Brycen's death that killed you inside. If you'd seen through his lie back then, then it would only have killed you more. And yet, how could the after be what you regretted? Those campers had not been the first to fall–and hadn't he and David ensured they hadn't been the last? There would be more someday. Not for now, though. Now, a bloater would be just enough.


	17. Survival Rule #17: If you want a hug, you're fuck out of luck.

You strode quickly away from Jackson, thumb stuck through the loop of your fraying backpack strap, booted feet thumping against the sun-hardened earth in their familiar uneven gait. Fucking anyone could hear _you_ coming, bloater or no. Most scavengers jangled and clattered when _not_ on the hunt, but you? Even in active stealth mode, you sounded like a five-limbed, limping cow. Of fucking course you had to lose a limb when physical therapists were thin on the ground. Sure, you _deserved_ to be permanently marked by your misdeeds, but knowing that didn’t make the mark any less goddamn annoying. 

What irked you more was that these thoughts circled around and around your fucking head on loop every day. Worse still, this wasn’t even _new_. Your fucking arm and your fucking walk and your fucking inability to exist were a new hell added to the never-ending parade of reminders about how it would be better for everyone—including your sorry ass—if you were dead. Whenever you were trying to avoid thinking about something else, these thoughts would creep in, and you were tired of them. So fucking tired. But if you stopped listening to _them_ , you’d have to think about what you’d done back there, namely that you’d taken credit for some bloater that wasn’t even close enough to pose a real threat. 

_Why_? Why the _fuck_ had you done that? Had the infected stolen your ability to keep your fucking trap shut along with your arm? You didn’t even know if Ezekiel had anything to do with this bloater. There were more bloaters in the world than that jackass had met. Something in Tommy’s tone, though, in the unusually guarded look in his eyes, made you think there was something that he wasn’t telling you. Then again, you had no friends in Jackson, so not being told some detail or another wasn’t unexpected. What _was_ was that you had agreed to go out. You knew Ezekiel’s M.O.. You’d helped him shape the damn thing. You’d both used the infected to draw people out of safety before. Group after group, clique after clique, colony after colony in Ezekiel’s quest to sate his appetite for followers. 

Apparently you weren’t the only one with a way with these fuckers anymore. 

Before the knife of guilt could twist your guts around like fucking spaghetti again, rapid footsteps approached you from behind. Distantly, you knew that could mean danger, but you didn’t bother turning to meet it. If someone stabbed you in the back, so fucking be it. More likely it was just Ellie under the mistaken assumption you wanted her company. Sure enough, you heard a grunt, the footsteps ceased, and then your least favorite person in the whole wide spore-infested hellhole of the world landed right beside you. Your flinch made it plain you hadn’t anticipated her arrival like that—and that you weren’t quite as ready to die via stab wound as you had previously thought. 

“So talk to me,” Ellie said casually, as she mimicked your unsightly walk. Scowling, you looked over your shoulder for any sign of Joel. Normally you didn’t want him within a fucking ten foot radius of you, but clearly he was the only sane one around these days. He was there all right, carefully avoiding looking directly at you and his daughter. Your scowl deepened before you went back to the more important task of watching where the fuck you were going. All the roots twisting over the not-path didn’t _help_ your clumsy-ass feet any. Not to mention, you weren’t going to entertain Ellie for Joel. You weren’t her goddamn babysitter. Babysitters got paid better than you did, for one. Not that this was hard, since Tommy paid you in extra work and fucking bloater encounters. 

While you considered this—and how the hell one got a raise in this day and age—Ellie must have been trying to get your attention. You came to to feel her prodding you repeatedly in the side missing a defensive arm. “Hey. Bitch. Bitch. Come on. You’ve gotta talk to somebody sometime.” 

You said nothing. Sometime could be on your deathbed and somebody sure as hell would never be her. It was your own damn fault, then, when Ellie continued to pester you. 

“Don’t you _want_ to talk? You’ve been real fucking quiet since we ran into your jackass friend. Was he the one who cut your arm off? What was he talking about, with you being too smart to be around chi—” 

“Holy _fucking_ shit!” you screamed, the constant pounding of questions loosening your tongue at last. “Do you ever, _ever_ shut the fuck up? I swear to _Christ_ you haven’t been quiet for one whole minute since you dragged me out of my fucking death shack! Shut your tiny fucking trap and leave me the hell alone for once in your tiny, insignificant life!” 

Too late, you realized what you’d done: snapped at the one girl in the world that seemed to have a universal no-mistreatment rule applied to. Not that giving her a tongue lashing was mistreatment in _your_ eyes; it was about goddamn time that _someone_ taught her the value of silence. You doubted, however, that anyone else would agree. Ellie herself was too surprised by your outburst to retort—or maybe she, like you, was frozen in place to listen to Joel drawing slowly nearer. 

Your legs quivered beneath you. Fuck. _Fuck_. You’d really cocked things up this time. You sucked in what was likely your final breath, only to turn to face Joel and find him looking at Ellie rather than at you. 

“What?” she demanded. 

Your stiffening in anticipation of the blow you expected from his fist (or the bat covered in nails dangling from one end of his pack) turned out unnecessary. He moved his arm, but not to hit you. Instead, he only lifted a hand to nudge Ellie further up what could only charitably be called a path. Ellie didn’t move. 

“Come on, baby girl. Why don’t you leave [Name] here alone for a bit?” 

“ _Why_?” she asked without moving an inch. Joel nudged her again. 

“Sometimes adults just gotta mope. You’ll understand when you’re older.” 

The dirty look Ellie threw _you_ was entirely expected, even if uncalled for. What had you done other than told her to go away? She was the one who had _demanded_ you go on this little road trip to begin with. If she was gonna get her panties in a twist over it, she could have just left you to rot in your bed. But you had never seen her wrinkle her nose at _Joel_ like that before. 

“Fine,” she snapped as she whirled around to stalk away through the trees. “Don’t let something like _me_ ruin your fucking ‘adult’ time.” 

“Ellie,” Joel began, but she had already hurried far enough ahead to disappear into the shadows. He let out a grumbling sigh, then added in a shout, “Be careful!” 

“Fuck you,” came ringing back. 

Seeing as your final destination involved a monster even your four-year-old nightmares couldn’t dream up, you weren’t in any rush to catch up. Maybe these two would go on and you could sneak back to Jackson and get to that rotting you’d so been looking forward to. To your surprise (or maybe not; Joel always did seem to know exactly what the fuck to do to keep you from getting what you wanted), he stayed next to you, quiet save for his boots hitting the ground in an even stride. God, even his fucking walk mocked you. You wanted to tell him you hated him, but he _had_ just rescued you from a torturous interrogation. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. 

“Don’t mention it. If you’re expecting some sort of hug, though, you’re fuck out of luck.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” And that was pure, undeniable fact. Joel had had you in his arms a fuckton more than he should have. Women your age couldn’t afford that sort of behavior. If something happened, your only option would be hoping to stumble upon a rusty coat hanger and hoping you weren’t too far along, or taking some conveniently placed poison and hoping it didn’t kill _you_. You knew from experience you didn’t want anything rusted that close to your fucking vagina, and with your luck, the poison would kill you or only knock you out long enough for Ellie to scrawl "cunt" across your forehead. 

Joel remained wordless beside you. Up ahead, you could hear the occasional snap of a twig underneath Ellie’s feet. That was the only reason he stuck with you, of that you were fucking sure. If he couldn’t be certain of Ellie’s safety, he’d leave you behind in a heartbeat, even if the bloater bore down on you that very second. For the time being, he probably just enjoyed making you uncomfortable. 

“So,” Joel began, and you bristled in anticipation, “how _do_ you know this Ezekiel fellow?” 

A brief pause, then, “What?” So convinced had you been that Joel’s thoughts were bent in the same direction as your own that the change of subject threw you for a loop. Joel shot you a smirk impossible to miss. 

“The toothy guy. Ellie tells me you two go back. You told Tommy this bloater is for you. Just trying to work out what kind of man sends a woman infected instead of flowers.” 

Another flood of images assaulted you from nowhere: an older man who didn’t care about the clicker you kept leashed behind you; a fellow human that believed you skilled instead of the fucking monster you suspected that you were; protection for the first time since your father left you and Brycen in the QZ to round up others; companionship for the first time since Brycen turned; someone that looked at you like a woman instead of a girl for the first time in your entire life. Fires in the great outdoors with a sky strewn with more stars than you’d ever known existed. The smell of roasting meat after a successful hunt and Brycen silent for once in his chains against a tree. A warm chest pressed against your bare back. Chapped lips against your neck. Always, always, the moaning, the clicking, the gurgling that wouldn’t let you rest. 

You’d been a goddamn fool then. You knew that now. But fucking _Joel_ didn’t have to. 

“He’s an old…friend,” you spoke the last word like it tasted bad. It did—like shit, like dirt, like sex, like bad decisions. 

Joel glanced at you again. Now he didn’t look so amused. “That I’d guessed. What?” he added at the venom in your expression. “’s not like you have the best taste in friends now either.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” you said dispassionately. 

“Figured that’d be your answer. Want to try again before I get mad?” 

He wasn’t going to hurt you. If he was, he’d have done it a long time ago. Joel used to make it clear that he hated your fucking guts as much as you hated his. Now, though? Joel was being—and you fucking hated to even think the word— _nice_. That was almost worse. Because if he hadn’t hurt you when he had suggested he might before, would he now, when there was a chance of you letting your guard down? 

“He’s no one to me anymore,” you said stiffly. 

“Was he someone to you once?” Joel asked. 

“Who wants to know?” 

“Me.” 

“ _Why_?” 

You stopped to look at Joel, expecting some fucking tirade or another about how the attacks on the night watch, the bloater in the near-ish vicinity, and even the vanishing food supplies were all somehow _your_ fault. He didn’t. He simply puffed his cheeks out with air like some kind of fucking blowfish, then shrugged. 

“Jus’ curious.” 

“Why?” you asked again. 

“None of your business.” 

You contemplated shrieking your head off again. The burning in your throat from your last session told you that trying a second time wouldn’t be worth the effort. Joel had passed on shooting you once; there was nothing to say a second outburst wouldn’t push him past the line drawn in the sand. Instead, you glared daggers and spun around to restart your awkward journey with a quiet, “What the fuck ever.” 

Several paces later, you realized he wasn’t following. Why? And why was Joel being so fucking nice that day? It was absolutely worse than when he was being a fucktard for no fucking reason. He _had_ to be up to something. The only question was _what_. You hesitated, the question on the tip of your tongue. The pause was all Joel needed to strike. 

“Y’see? Can’t even get you all stirred up anymore.” 

“Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” 

“Not always. At first, sure. Now what am I supposed to do? Getting angry is all you’re good at.” 

You made a face that he couldn’t see from where he stood. He wasn’t _wrong_. You weren’t, however, going to give Joel the fucking satisfaction of seeing you angry when that was he _wanted_. Besides, anger took up too much energy, and energy wasn’t something you had much of these days—certainly not enough to fight a goddamn bloater. 

“Whoever this guy was,” Joel said, “he’s sure got a handle on you.” 

This time, you tried to retort. You got as far as opening your mouth before several gunshots fired in rapid succession, the sound bouncing off the multitude of trees. 

“Ellie!” you and Joel gasped in unison. It took only one look at each other to spring into action. Almost in unison, you each snatched the gas mask from the sides of your bags, strapped them on, then leaped in the direction of the gunfire. Your legs took off without waiting for an order from your brain. Sprawling roots smacked your toes; branches whacked you in the mouth. You tasted blood from where your lips split. Joel shoved past you, knocking you so hard into a trunk that you lost your breath. Still you ran on, just on Joel’s heels. If Ezekiel got Ellie dead, he was going to have more to handle than some scratches on that fucking ugly mug of his. He knew as well as you did just what Joel was capable of. 

Ahead, the trees began to part. A dark figure darted between them. Another, much more distant shape moved across a clearing of sorts—a clearing that glittered with spores. Through this sparkling mist shambled the horribly twisted, lumpy figure of a bloater that had been, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a child. It was far too small to be a grown adult, and the noises it made too high pitched for a human that had reached puberty. Nausea rose so quickly in your stomach that you had to lean over and retch. Thank fucking god you had been too depressed to eat anything that morning. The filters in your mask didn’t need fucking vomit in them on top of everything else. 

You knew for sure now, though: that bloater was for you. Ezekiel wanted to talk. 

Your eyes peered through the yellow mist, looking for any sign of him watching. Of course, Ezekiel wasn’t so fucking stupid that he’d hang around an active shooting zone. During your distraction, Ellie fired several bullets that sounded by the squelching like they’d met their target in the bloater’s head. Unluckily for your survival but luckily for the survival of your gas mask, there were no resulting spurts of blood. Bloaters had too much bulk for that; too many fungal tumors erupting around their head and face. This bloater in particular was so far gone that it was impossible to tell what sort of face it had once had—male or female, happy or sad. 

The shots did cause it to stagger slightly, letting off several more spore bombs in the time it took Ellie to reload. You weren’t too worried; you’d seen her face down threats before. Then you got close enough to really see her. 

She wasn’t wearing her mask. 

Ellie stood in between two trees, pistol between her hands, breathing in the spores as naturally as air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Your stomach dropped. Your legs went on. Spores twinkled like starlight in the sunbeams piercing through the foliage overhead. The loop of thoughts returned, this time stuck on a single phrase: Not again. 

“Not again!” you screamed as time caught up and found you flying at Ellie. Your sudden appearance surprised her so much that she could only gasp as you shoved her behind you. What fucking good that did, you didn’t know yourself. Now _you_ were the one standing in front of the bloater, with nothing to your name but a chunk of plywood and a backpack full of bottles, bricks, and bombs you couldn’t fucking reach. 

Something hard pressing against your hand interrupted your whirlwind of thoughts. You looked down. A lit Molotov cocktail had magically appeared in your fucking hand—or not so magically, as the next thing you heard was Ellie snapping, “throw it, you fucking idiot!” 

You chucked it at the bloater without further prompting. Unfortunately, your fucking terrible aim only started a grass fire on a patch of forest slightly to the creature’s left. You scuttled in the opposite direction that it did to avoid the heat, an iron grip wrenching Ellie along behind you. 

“What the hell—” 

Joel fired three revolver shots from where you’d left him behind. Good, he was close. You turned in the direction of the noise only long enough to fling the barefaced girl that way. She tripped into his chest; Joel looked at you, his eyes blazing. What, did he need a fucking hint? 

“Get her back to Jackson!” You could hear the bloater coming ever closer. It wasn’t fast, but once it was on you, you wouldn’t be able to run. Ellie stepped aside for Joel to ready another volley of bullets. What the fuck were they sticking around for? “Go! What are you, a dumbass? Get her back now, maybe they can do something for her!” 

Ellie and Joel only exchanged looks, hers wild and frightened, his obscured by his own mask. The bloater’s gurgling grew closer. With an annoyed shriek, you rolled your eyes as you pulled off your pack and slammed it into the dirt. If Joel and Ellie wanted the latter to die sooner rather than later, that was _their_ fucking business. You had no intention of rolling over and letting that monstrosity chew out your throat. No longer paying heed to your companions’ presence, you ripped your pack open and dug around. Your hands shook as you sifted through the jumbled contents. Why the fuck couldn’t you keep things organized? Oh, right: you only had one fucking hand to stuff things in with! 

“Fucking shit. Come _on_ ,” you moaned. Your breath hitched repeatedly inside your aching lungs. Just what you needed in this fucking situation: to hyperventilate. “Fuck you, past me. Where did you put the—” 

You found what you were looking for in the nick of time. With nary a second glance at your few belongings now scattered across the ground, you set the Molotov cocktail against a nearby root. Part one, complete. You hazarded a look at the bloater. Lucky thing you did (though you didn’t believe in luck these days, just coincidental mercies), because it was closing in. Your eyes widened as another expletive tore out of your mouth. Stumbling forward with your pack dangling from your empty shoulder, you snatched up your cocktail. The bloater’s arm swung up; you ducked…and given your state of grace, wound up tripping right over your own goddamn feet. 

With a roar of rage, the bloater turned. Sure enough, it was a lot faster in close quarters than it was from a distance. You scrambled to your feet, pack leaking odds and ends you hadn’t bothered to clear out after all your trips with Joel and Ellie. Hopefully none of those were the matches you’d need for part two of your plan—not that it fucking mattered if you couldn’t get enough distance between you and the damn thing to _find_ your matches! 

The bloater continued to snarl, barreling toward you with surprising speed. You darted around a tree, then another, then another. At least this way you were drawing it away from Ellie and Joel. It was impossible to tell if they were still being fucking idiots and sticking around. The only sound you could hear above your opponent’s growling was the frantic breaths whooshing in and out of your gas mask. 

Another lunge through an open space. This time, you didn’t reach your target. The bloater, whether by accident or design, stood in your way. You careened right into its rubbery frame. The difference in heights between you meant that, by all rights, you should have knocked it over, but it kept coming, sending _you_ bowling over once again. Just because it was smaller than the average bloater didn’t mean that it was any less dangerous. It loomed over you, its gaping maw emitting the only noise its vocal cords could still manage. 

“Fuck!” Not the most creative last words anyone had ever picked, but a good summary of your life in general. You used a foot to kick your bottle of dirty rags and alcohol back up to you, but a fat lot of fucking good that would do you. With seconds left to you, you ought to have been seeing your sorry life flash before your eyes, but instead you thrust your hand one last time into your bag to find the exact thing you were looking for. Even the bloater, if it could have been shocked, paused to look at the box of matches clutched in your hand—or, since it didn’t have eyes anymore, was simply surprised to hear the triumphant “ha!” you let out without thinking. 

It didn’t fucking matter why the damn thing hesitated. You pushed the matches out onto the ground with your thumb, picked one off the ground, and struck it against the nearest tree stump. Miracle of fucking miracles, it caught light, and, just as your bloater friend drew close enough to bite your throat out, you set the rags in the cocktail aflame and threw it the remaining few inches into its fucking ugly face. 

With a scream of pain, the bloater lurched away from you. That still wasn’t enough. The fire licked your clothes, catching your shirt, too. The smell of burning fungus filled the air thickly enough to force its way through your filter. Swearing profusely, you rolled over until the flames on your clothing went out, then cast one horrified look at the burning child before you pelted in the opposite direction. 

Were you headed for Jackson? You didn’t know. What about your stuff? Who the fuck cared? All you knew was that one Molotov cocktail wouldn’t be enough to take that thing out. You didn’t get far. From only a few steps away from where you started, you heard one final revolver shot ring out through the air. The roaring stopped. A long breath of relief escaped your lungs, then you turned around to give Joel what for. 

“About damn time,” you snapped. 

“Oh darling,” said a voice that brought you up short. “I think that’s my line you’re stealing.” 

It shouldn’t have shocked you, seeing Ezekiel striding toward you through the shadows. Even before he peeled off his own gas mask, you knew it was him. As soon as he did, you knew something else: you were in trouble. Crisscrossed across his once handsome face were a collection of livid red slashes that clearly came from human fingernails. You were right: the bloater had been for you, and judging by Ezekiel’s expression, you weren’t going to like what he wanted to say.


End file.
